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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

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No One's Gonna Need You More

Written by: @ambpersand

Prompt 36: Frustrated and stressed out Single dad!Peeta needs a fuck desperately. His best friend, Katniss, unwittingly offers to help him out. Things get murky with repressed feelings, but one thing’s certain, Peeta can’t keep his hands to himself anymore and Katniss is all too willing to oblige at the drop of a hat, regardless of place, time and her own emotions, as long as he keeps whispering all his sexy, filthy thoughts into her ear. [submitted by anonymous]

Rated E.

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“Hey Katniss, It’s Delly… I just wanted to let you know that Peeta is here at Sae’s bar tonight, but he doesn’t look so good… I don’t know what happened but you might want to come get him.”

Delly left the message on my voicemail twenty minutes ago, but I jumped in my car so fast that I don’t bother calling her back. My mind is racing with too many questions to be able to focus on anything except driving and getting to Peeta.

Is he okay? Did something happen? Was there an accident? Why is he at the bar alone on a Friday night? And why didn’t he tell me?

He’s my best friend, but as far as I know, nothing special was supposed to be happening tonight. It’s just another Friday. Or is it? Did I miss something? Did he have plans that he told me about, but I forgot? No, I think, searching back through my memory. If he wanted to go out, he would have asked me. Or he would have given me a heads up, because that’s what we did. We checked in with each other. We looked after each other. It’s been that way for six years now, but this has me spinning.

We made that promise when he finally admitted that his on-again-off-again girlfriend was actually a one night stand, and she was 6 months pregnant. They couldn’t make it work, and she wanted to give the baby up. He’d been sitting on the secret for months without confiding in me, and it wasn’t until he was almost completely wrecked that he finally confessed that he was going to be a single dad all on his own. He was afraid to say anything in case it scared me off, and he cared too much for our friendship to let something like failed birth control get in between us. Since then, I’ve been by his side. Through thick and thin. Helping him when he needed it most, never judging. But now… Now he’s out at a bar on a Friday night, and he didn’t tell me. It seems inconsequential, but with how close we are, I know it means something.

A heavy feeling settles in my stomach when I realize that he’s obviously been keeping something from me again. Whatever it is. And if he’s at the bar… Where’s Lily?

We usually tell each other everything. We text occasionally throughout the day, but we spend most of our weekends together. Even tonight, when he asked me what I was up to, I responded back with a picture of my dinner framed in front of my TV. He responded back with a couple of emojis, but didn’t give me any impression that he wasn’t at home doing the same thing.

What’s going on?

The bar is packed, which is unsurprising for a Friday night, but I spot him almost immediately after walking through the door. His blond waves stand out at me like a beacon, shining in the low lights from the row of stools in front of the bar top. What I can’t see, though, is his face… He’s sitting slumped forward, his fists pressed into his eyes, and an empty glass in front of him.

“Peeta?” he jumps when I place my hand on his shoulder, so I pull it back quickly. He’s never had a problem being touched before, but the way he twists away from my hand is enough to make a frown start to pull at the edges of my mouth.

“Katniss?” my name sounds thick and slow, like his tongue and lips can’t get through the syllables quite right, and his eyes are glassy when he turns to face me. The sudden movement has him grabbing at the edge of the bar for support, and my immediate instinct is to reach out and steady him with a hand on his back.

“What are you doing here?” blinking rapidly, he squints at me like I might be a mirage. His confusion doesn’t help to reassure the strange, betrayed feeling that’s started to settle in my stomach, but I squash it down. He’s drunker than I’ve ever seen him before, and he needs to get home before he blacks out on the dirty floor of the bar.

“I’m here to help get you home,” I tell him, digging in my purse for a few dollars to throw down in front of his empty glass. I don’t know what his bar tab is, and I’m not sure I want to know. He’s obviously had more than one beer, which is his standard when we grab dinner together. When the bartender doesn’t notice me waiting after a moment, I give up and turn back to Peeta. We’ll have to come back and settle it in the morning, I guess.

“No,” he tries again, shaking his head. The movement is more of a circle than anything else, and it makes him dizzy again. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take you home,” I repeat, slower this time. God, how much did he have to drink?

“Katniss,” he reaches out, placing his wide palm against my cheek. “No.”

As frustrated as I am that he came to the bar to get shit-faced without telling me, I want to laugh at how ridiculous this conversation is. I’m not usually the one who’s good with words, but right now he’s almost incoherent.

“Peeta, yes,” placing my hand over his, I pull it away from my face. When he frowns a little, I shake my head. “You’ve had too much to drink. You need to get home.”

At the mention of home, I cringe. I should have remembered.

“Where’s Lily?”

“Hmm? Oh,” a wide smile breaks out across his face at the mention of her name. “She’s with Rye.”

His slurred answer sounds more like sheswifrye, but I let out a relieved sigh. On the off chance he needs a sitter for his daughter, he calls me. But his brother? That’s usually only when he and I have plans together, or if I’m busy. I’m always the first person he calls, and I try to resist scowling at the snub. “Come on, then. Let’s get going.”

He doesn’t fight me when I stoop down to wrap his arm around my shoulder, pulling his weight up and forward so I can act as a human crutch. He’s just tall enough that my shoulders settle into the side of his torso, but it will do.

“Why though?” he asks, stumbling forward a little when we begin to make our way to the front door. My arm is wrapped around the opposite side of his stomach, and I can feel the solid strength of his abs underneath the button up shirt he’s wearing.

“God, you are drunk,” I huff out a laugh, because he’s heavy. “I told you already.”

“No, why?” he persists, pulling his head back to look down at me with a bleary gaze.

It takes me a second to realize that I must be missing the point. What is he trying to ask me? Why am I at the bar? To take his drunk ass home to sleep it off.

“Because I’m your best friend,” I try a different tactic with my answer this time, thankful when we make it through the door without him falling over completely. His steps are heavy and shuffling beside mine, but he smiles easily when I speak again. “And you would do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Always,” he sighs the word and leans into my embrace a little as we walk down the sidewalk toward my car.

An easy silence falls between us, even though I’m full of questions. I won’t get anywhere questioning him now, though, and he’s going to need to take some water and painkillers before getting him into bed.

“Did you drive here earlier?” I ask him once we get to my SUV, and I manage to get the passenger side door unlocked and open with my free hand.

“Yeah,” he swallows heavily before climbing into the seat in an uncoordinated movement. Once he’s finally settled, he pats around at his pockets before finding his keys and pulling them out to hand to me. “Here, you drive.”

“I think I will,” I laugh, pushing them into my purse for safekeeping. I guess we’ll have two things to take care of in the morning.

Once I’m settled in to the driver’s side and pulling out into the street, I cast a glance in his direction. He’s got his head leaning back on the headrest with his eyes closed, and even in the weird yellow glow of the streetlights he’s still the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. With a wide set jaw and long eyelashes the same color of his wavy hair, he’s always been hard to look away from. Light freckles dot his face, scattered across his cheekbones, nose, and forehead from so many summers outside with his brothers. With a wide nose and plush lips, I could stare at him all night if he would let me. Thankfully, he’s used to me staring at him.

Even with his eyes closed right now, he can tell. “Thanks,” he says, sighing a little. His voice is still slurred, but it’s starting to grow heavy with sleep. Shit, I won’t be able to carry him inside if he passes out now.

“Peeta,” I say his name loud enough to get his eyes fluttering open. “Why were you at the bar tonight?”

I don’t say the question I actually want to ask.

“I asked you first,” he chuckles, sitting up a little and blinking rapidly like he’s trying to clear his vision.

“And I answered,” I point out, hoping that this will be enough to keep him awake and engaged for another ten minutes while I drive home.

“No you didn’t,” his voice is playful, and he rolls his head to the side to look at me. Even in the dark I can see the vibrant blue of his eyes. “I didn’t tell you I was gonna be there. Are you following me, Katniss?”

The sound I make is more of a scoff than anything else, and I move my eyes back to the road so he doesn’t see me roll them at the absurdity of the idea. It isn’t until his words sink in that I realize what he was trying to ask me all along. Not why, but how.

“Delly called me,” I tell him, rolling my lips between my teeth. The slight stinging feeling is back in my chest now, and I take a deep breath to try and dislodge it.

“She shouldn’t have,” Peeta shakes his head and looks out the window, resting his forehead against the glass.

“Why not?” my question is genuinely curious, because I don’t know how he would have gotten home if someone hadn’t come to get him. And if Rye is busy, then that leaves me. Was he expecting the bartender to call him a cab or something?

“Because,” he sighs heavily, letting his eyes fall shut again. I know this look. It’s his frustrated look, when he’s searching for the words to say something difficult, but can’t find them just yet. I’ve seen him give this look to Lily on occasion, but never me.

“I was fine,” he says instead.

“You’re drunk,” I correct him.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal,” he shrugs, but I can see the defeat that’s written on his face. He’s hiding something, or a few somethings, but I can’t even begin to imagine what it might be.

“You can tell me anything, you know,” I soften my voice so I don’t sound so accusatory. “You’re my best friend.”

“That’s why I can’t tell you,” he exclaims, pulling his hands up to tug at his hair. “It’s fine, okay? Everything is fine.”

It’s not fine, I want to say. Five years ago he and I made a promise to stop keeping secrets from each other, but apparently I’m the only one who kept up my end of the bargain. When I don’t respond back, he looks at me, and even though my eyes are straight ahead, I see the way his jaw drops open a little.

I’m sure I look angry. I kind of am, but I’m more annoyed by anything else. I get woken up at 10 PM to come get his drunk ass, and he can’t even be bothered to be honest with me.

“Katniss,” he pleads, leaning forward and resting his head on my shoulder. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” I sigh, careful not to dislodge his head when I turn the steering wheel.

“It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Just one and done and then I would be okay, you know?”

“What?” it’s like he’s speaking in riddles. Drunk riddles.

“You wouldn’t get it,” he sits up and shakes his head, but the movement must make him dizzy again. “Whoa,” he grabs at the center console to steady himself, and I give him a worried look when I see his normally pale complexion is more of an ashy white color.

“Please don’t puke in my car,” I eye him wearily. “Just sit back, okay? We’ll be home in a minute.”

“I’m okay,” he sucks in a few deep breaths through his nose, and he sounds confident enough that I believe him.

After another moment, his eyebrows knit together. “Home?”

“My house,” I correct. My place is closer than his, but I didn’t even think of taking him back to his house instead. Someone needs to watch him tonight to make sure he’s okay, the last thing I need is another phone call in the morning that he fell down the stairs trying to make it to the bathroom because he was still drunk at 2 AM.

“I like your house,” he sighs happily, and I can’t stop the smile that stretches across my lips. Even though I’m annoyed at him, he’s still unquestionably nice. It’s my weakness.

“Good. We’re going to get you some water and get you into bed, okay?”

“Bed?” he says the word like it’s the best reward I could give him, and I can’t help but laugh a little.

My place is a small one bedroom bungalow, but it’s okay. He can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.

“Yes, a bed. But you have to stay awake until we get there, okay?” I tell him when I notice that his eyes have drifted closed again.

“Okay,” he agrees, even though his eyes are still closed.

“Did you eat dinner?” I try asking another question instead to try and keep him awake.

“Hmm?” it takes him a second to process the question, but then he shakes his head slightly. “No. I was waiting, but then you showed up.”

“You were waiting?” A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s past 10:30 now, and I can’t imagine what he means.

“Mmhmm,” he nods, but doesn’t elaborate.

“How long were you waiting for?” I ask instead, trying not to sigh in frustration.

His fingers begin ticking the numbers off, and I wait while he struggles with the math. Apparently, numbers and alcohol don’t mix.

“Uhh,” he stops, running his hand across his face again. “When was 6?”

“You’ve been waiting at the bar since 6 PM?” my eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah,” his confirmation sounds sadder than I expect, and I can’t stop from looking at him. Even though I’m still driving, we’re close to my house in the residential part of town. There’s no other cars around, and I let my eyes focus on him for a brief second.

His eyes are cast down at his lap, and his shoulders are slumped forward again like they were when I first walked into the bar. Normally he’s in a good mood, upbeat and outgoing, but this is… something else entirely.

“Who were you waiting for, Peeta?” I ask him quietly. “I would have come if you would have just told me.”

“You couldn’t come,” he shakes his head in a vehement no, and I immediately frown.

“Ouch,” I try to laugh it off, but it’s true. His words sting, and I know in the morning he’ll barely remember any of this.

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs again. “It was dumb.”

Before I can get too angry about the strange and sudden secrecy, I notice how embarrassed he sounds.

“It’s okay,” when I pull into my driveway, I glance at him again, surprised to see his cheeks and ears stained pink. “Let’s get you inside.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as soon as we enter my living room, and he kicks off his shoes on instinct. He’s walking a little steadier now, but I keep close just in case he stumbles.

“For what?”

“Everything. You weren’t supposed to be bothered.”

“You think I’m bothered by helping you?”

“I was trying to get help on my own,” he drops his head back, and the frustration is practically rolling off of him in waves. His moods are swinging around wildly, and I can barely keep track if he’s upset or confused or angry. Or maybe it’s just all three, and I rarely see him this worked up.

My living room, kitchen, and dining room all bleed into each other, and I’ve never been more thankful for the cramped floor plan. When I direct him to the small dining table, he doesn’t fight it. “You sit here while I get some water, okay?”

“You don’t have to do this,” he grabs my hand before I can walk away, looking up at me with pleading eyes.

“I do, or you’re going to have one hell of a hangover,” I purse my lips, but I don’t have the heart to tell him he’s going to have a nasty headache in the morning either way. He never drinks like this, and it’s bound to come back and bite him in the ass.

“No,” he tugs down on my fingers, but he doesn’t look away. “You’re the only one who takes care of me. You don’t have to do it.”

Ahh, I almost laugh. We’ve reached the emotional stage of his drunkenness. “I want to, Peeta. I like helping to take care of you. You take care of me too, you know.”

At my words, his neck flushes red and his eyes dart away. Narrowing my eyes, I watch as he shifts in his seat a little, but his hand feels burning hot against my skin.

“That’s not…” he tries, but has to swallow before he can continue. “You can’t take care of this.”

“I can’t take care of what, Peeta?” getting him water?

“Me,” he emphasizes by pressing his other hand to his chest.

“Okay, Peeta. You’re drunk. Let me go get you some water,” this time I do laugh a little bit, because later I’ll be angry. When he’s asleep, I’ll get to think more about how he’s starting to hide things and keeping cryptic secrets.

He finally lets my hand go, but only so he can scrub it across his cheeks. “I’m sorry for being such a wreck. I just… I just wanted…”

“You just wanted what?” I know I shouldn’t push, but I need to know. I need to know what was so important that he thought he had to hide it from me.

“God,” his hands move from his face into his hair, where he scratches his nails against his scalp. “Shit. I just… It’s been so long. It feels like I’m about to lose my mind.”

“It’s been so long since what, Peeta?” I lean against the table next to him, not trusting myself to move any further away. “You can tell me anything. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you. You know I would.”

He chuckles a little, but the sound is short lived. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” I poke at his shoulder. He’s been the most constant influence in my life for years. Supporting me through both my mom and my sister moving halfway across the country. Bringing me food and taking care of me when I’m sick. Celebrating when I got the big promotion at work. Helping me with repairs around my house when I needed a second hand and couldn’t handle it alone. “Anything, Peeta. Always.”

“You’d pity fuck me?” he must be going for shock value, and it works. My jaw drops open on a gasp, and it’s the least thing I expected him to say. Even drunk, he shrugs at my response. “See. I told you. That’s what I thought. You can’t always help me.”

“That’s…” I have to blink a few times to get my bearings. My body feels suddenly flushed at his confession, and I don’t know what to do with the information. “That’s what you were doing tonight?”

“What I was trying to do,” he drops his head forward, and I can see that his neck is still burning bright red. “Until I got stood up and then drank my weight in liquor. Fuck, I’m sorry, Katniss. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry–”

“Peeta,” I cut him off before he can spiral any further. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were on a date?”

“Because,” he sighs again, but his words are starting to sound a little clearer now. He might be starting to sober up, but only barely. “Because it’s been five years since I’ve had sex and I’m desperate. It’s sad.”

Five years. It’s been just under five years since Lily was born, which means… “You haven’t had sex since Clove?”

“I told you,” he lets out a weak laugh. “It’s sad. But the last year or so… It’s just…”

“You’re finally ready to start dating again?” I try to fill in the blanks. I remember a conversation, shortly after Lily was born, when he met a pretty blonde named Madge. She could have been the perfect stand-in for Lily’s mom, but he wasn’t interested. He turned her down multiple times, and kept insisting that he wasn’t ready. Eventually she moved on, but Peeta kept his sole focus on Lily. Until now, apparently.

The thought sends a flash of jealousy through my system, ice cold and unexpected. As much as I want what’s best for Peeta, I’m taken aback by how much I don’t like the idea of him being out with another woman. Maybe it’s because he’s kept most of his attention on Lily, the bakery, and me for the last five years, but my reaction is as confusing as it is strong. I don’t own him, I try to tell myself, but it does little to quell the spike of pressure in my chest.

“Not even,” he blinks a few times, fisting his hands together, but he won’t look at me now. “I’m desperate. I feel like a teenager again. It’s all I can think about. I thought maybe a quick date would help take the edge off so I could go back to normal, but…”

Oh. “You, uh…” I struggle for the words, but a smile is tugging at my lips. “Just needed to let off some steam?”

“God,” he snorts a laugh. “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not!” I try to argue, but I can’t stop the giggle that erupts out of my chest.

“Trust me, I’ve tried everything else.”

I don’t even know where to begin dissecting his statement. Everything? What does that even mean? Oh, I realize, and I can’t stop the visual once it’s in my head. His hand wrapped around his erection, pumping long and slow, with smooth movements as his palm encircles the tip…

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he says once I go silent, but I snap out of my filthy little dream. I can feel the heat of embarrassment flushing against the back of my neck now, and I avoid looking at him in case he sees it written across my face.

“You’re fine, Peeta,” I don’t want him to be embarrassed, but my body is flushed with an odd sensation that feels warm and tingly at the same time.

“I know you said you would help me no matter what, but this is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he finally looks at me again, his gaze harder than usual.

“I–” I what, exactly? “I’ll do it.”

The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and his eyes go wide at the same time mine do.

“You what?”

“I’ll do it,” I force myself to repeat the words, and they sound choked as I push them past my lips.

“Katniss, no,” he tries to sit back, but the chair keeps him from going anywhere. He’s sputtering a little now, confused by my sudden offer. I’m just as surprised by it as he is, but I can’t take it back now. “No, you don’t need to–”

“You said just once, right?” it feels like I’m the one who’s drunk now, but I can’t help it. The tightness in my chest has expanded, wrapping around my lungs and abdomen with a kind of pressure I’ve never experienced before. “Let me help you then. This way you don’t have to wait for a stranger at the bar.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead staring at me with the same hard gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not,” I breathe out. I’ve always been attracted to him, but now… He needs help, and I’m his best friend. I can do this. I can help him out, no strings attached. I can. If he says yes.

“Katniss, I can’t,” he starts to shake his head slowly, and my stomach sinks like a heavy weight. “It would ruin everything…”

“Okay,” I nod, forcing my face into something that doesn’t look as hurt as I feel by his unintentional rejection. “That’s fine. I just thought I would offer. I’ll go get you some water, okay?”

I’m up and over at the sink before he can respond again, and all I hear is a choked noise from the middle of his chest. “Katniss…”

“Come on, you need to get some sleep,” when I finally return to the table, he hasn’t moved. I usher him forward with a hand on his palm, and he raises to his feet slowly. He’s still drunk, but he’s managed to sober up somewhat by the shock of my offer. Hopefully he still won’t remember this in the morning, but I know him well enough that even if he does, he’ll be too polite to say anything.

He lets me push him down the hallway to my room, and collapses into my bed without argument. “Drink this,” I hand him the water before moving to grab the blanket from the end of my bed, tossing it over his lower body.

He doesn’t say anything, instead staring at me with a steady gaze as I move around the room. Once the bottle of aspirin is on the bedside table, I flip off the light. “I’ll be on the couch. Come get me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” his agreement is slow and quiet, and I let out a sigh as soon as I close the door shut behind me.

Shit.

———————————————-

I don’t know what time it is when I hear the sound of the toilet flushing, but from the blue light beginning to peek through the curtains, it must be early. I’m a light sleeper, and when you’re used to sleeping in a house alone, any errant noise will wake me up instantly.

“Peeta?” I call out, my voice groggy and rough from sleep, and pull myself from the couch. My joints are a little stiff, but I probably feel better than he does.

“Yeah?” his voice is weak from the other side of the bathroom door down the hall, and when I reach it I rap lightly with my knuckles.

“You okay?”

“No,” his response is heavy with misery, and I let out a slight laugh. “Don’t come in. I’m dying.”

I crack the door open, unsurprising when I see his legs sprawled out on the floor.

“I’ll call the coroner, then.”

“Please do,” he replies, his voice muffled. When I push the door open the rest of the way, I see that he’s stripped off his shirt and is using it as a pillow against the cold tile of the floor.

“Wow. You look like hell,” I nudge his calf with my toe, and he winces as if he’s in pain. His skin looks pale and clammy, shining slightly in the overhead light.

“You don’t have to shout it,” he croaks, trying to wave me off, but the motion is weak and half-hearted.

“You look like hell,” I mock-whisper at him, having too much fun to leave him alone. I know I probably should, but after last night… He deserves to get a little bit of shit from me, I think.

“That’s better.”

“So,” I move into the bathroom and slide by body down the back of the door, tucking my legs in front of my body. “What did we learn last night?”

“To not mix beer and bourbon,” he groans.

“Good lesson. Did you take the aspirin I left you?”

“Yeah,” he swallows heavily. “Then I puked it up.”

I snort, unsurprised. “You should shower. You’ll feel better.”

And you smell like the back of a bar, I skip telling him that part, and he groans.

“That means getting off the floor,” Peeta sighs. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. Now come on,” I move forward to help him up, and he lets out another groan as he rises to his feet. I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before, but now, in the light of day after my embarrassing offer, I avert my eyes.

“Can we get breakfast?” he asks on a heavy sigh. I’m not surprised he wants food, now, even as sick as he is after his unintentional bender. It’s probably been 18 hours since he’s last eaten.

“How about I make some omelettes and we can crash on the couch until the bar opens?”

He starts the shower spray and gives me a confused look, obviously unaware of how he left the bar last night. Good, I think. Maybe then he won’t remember the rest of the night, either.

“We still need to pay your tab and pick up your car, you lush.”

“Shit,” he curses, closing his eyes and rubbing his knuckle across his brow.

“Yeah, shit,” I echo. “You know where the towels are.”

The soft noise from the shower should be reassuring as I get started on breakfast, but it’s not. It’s a reminder that Peeta is naked in my house, just a few dozen feet away from me. Usually, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, either. But now it is, because I had to go and fuck things up. Even if he can’t remember my offer, that’s exactly what I did. And because of it, I’m stuck imagining what he looks like standing in my shower, water cascading down his chest, his hands soaping his body–

“Hey,” his voice surprises me, and I almost jump out of my skin when he speaks from just a few feet behind me. “Whoa, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I take a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart, but he gives me a careful look. “Just focusing on cooking, that’s all.”

When I motion to the pan in front of me, he goes still. “You’re making potatoes?”

They might be his favorite, and I might be stupid for thinking about it when I saw the bag of hash browns in my freezer. “Figured you could use the carbs.”

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?” he praises me, moving to the electric kettle next to the fridge.

“Don’t kid yourself, I’m just racking up favors now. That’s all this is,” I laugh it off, focusing on the sizzling pan in front of me while he moves to make us tea.

“Sorry I don’t have any more coffee,” I tell him with a shrug. I usually keep a bag on hand for him in the cabinet, but I’m pretty sure he drank it all at least a month ago.

“It’s fine,” he assures me. “My stomach probably couldn’t handle it right now anyway.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“If by better you mean half-alive, sure,” his laugh is soft and warm, and Iet my eyes flutter closed at the sound and grip the spatula a little tighter. A comfortable silence fills the kitchen, and he works to grab plates and utensils while I finish cooking. Once we’re sitting down on the couch, food in hand, he clears his throat.

“Thanks for last night.”

“It’s no problem,” I assure him, hoping he doesn’t take it any further, but when he opens his mouth again I almost groan. I know the look on his face. It’s persistence.

Shit. I was wrong… He does remember after all, and I can see the careful look in his eyes. It’s the same one he gets when he’s trying to deal with Lily when she gets cranky and he’s trying to avoid a full blown meltdown.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” I try to cut him off before he can get started. We absolutely don’t need to even acknowledge it. It was a stupid offer, and we should just move on.

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say,” he quirks a blond eyebrow up at me and sets his fork down.

“I do, trust me. And we don’t.”

“Katniss,” my name is so soft against his tongue that I barely hear it. “I–”

“We talked about it plenty last night. It’s fine, Peeta. Really. We can just move on and forget it ever happened.”

Please don’t make me relive that rejection. Please.

“Okay,” he nods after a moment. “If that’s what you want.”

Instead of answering I nod and shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth, turning back to the TV in front of us. To something normal and easy. Something that doesn’t remind me of my lapse in judgement last night when I offered to fuck my best friend.

The next time he speaks, he offers me a slight smile. “Thanks for everything.”

———————————————-

It’s almost 3 PM when my phone chimes with a new text message, and I’m halfway through unpacking my groceries. After dropping Peeta off at his car and an awkward goodbye, I came back home to get a shower, then ran a few errands to get what I needed for the week. It helped to feel some semblance of normal, but when I see his name on my screen, that strange tingling feeling resumes in my stomach.

Peeta: You busy?

I wait until I’ve got the rest of my bags unpacked before getting to the message, then head to the living room.

Katniss: Not really, why?

My phone buzzes again almost immediately, another text message from him popping up in our conversation history.

Peeta: Are you home?

Katniss: Yeah, what’s up? Did you leave something here?

When he doesn’t answer, I set my phone down on the coffee table and grab the remote, settling in to watch some TV until I need to make dinner. Before I can finish scrolling through the menu, my doorbell rings.

Confused, I make my way to the door, but freeze as soon as I swing it open.

It’s Peeta.

“Why did you ring the doorbell?” I cock my head to the side, but he’s biting down on his lower lip hard enough that the delicate pink skin has turned bright red. Usually he knocks before opening the door and letting himself in, but now he looks almost hesitant to step forward. It’s a strange thought, but I also notice that he’s changed clothes. So he went home and then… came back here?

He shakes his head, ignoring my question. “Did you mean it?”

“What?” confused, I take a step back, but he follows me, crowding up closer to my body without stepping fully into the house.

“What you said to me last night,” he clarifies, staring into my eyes with more purpose than I’ve ever seen. “Your offer. Did you mean it?”

Oh god, the offer to sleep with him? “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that,” I shake my head and take another step back, but he mirrors the movement again. Like a predator following his prey, I’m locked in his sights.

“I thought I could let it go,” he shakes his head, letting his eyes drift closed for the briefest of moments. “I was wrong.”

“Peeta,” I try, but he shuts the door behind him and cuts off my words. My heart is pounding now, sending shocks of adrenaline through my system as I try to figure out my next move. Do I tell him I didn’t mean it? Do I laugh it off?

“I’ll only ask this once,” he says, his voice low. “Just tell me the truth.”

“I–” my throat suddenly feels dry and tight, and I have to swallow a few times to push past it. “I think so.”

My answer is barely a whisper, but I see the relief as it washes over his features.

“I need a yes or no,” with another step, we’re inches apart.

“Yes,” I manage a nod, but it’s shaky, and my thighs hit the back of the couch. I’m stuck, backed up as far as I can go.

“Do you think…” he takes a shuddering breath, like he’s trying to breathe me in, but it’s the only crack in his facade. Everything else seems so intent. So desperate, that I don’t doubt him for a moment. “Just once?”

“Just once,” I agree, echoing his words with another nod.

“And nothing will change?” his eyes drop down to my lips, and in a movement that seems almost involuntary, his tongue peeks out, swiping across his own lower lip. “I can’t lose you, Katniss. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“It wont,” I try to assure him. It wont. It can’t. He’s my best friend, and I’m his. We’ve been through everything together… And if he needs help, I would rather he come to me than anyone else. “I promise.”

The word promise cuts him loose completely and he pounces on me, releasing all the pent up tension that he’s been keeping in his broad shoulders. His lips crash down on mine and I barely have time to suck in a gasp before his fingers are digging into my hair.

“Fuck, Katniss,” He sighs against my lips, but I can’t think. His mouth is working mine so effortlessly, and it feels… Holy shit. It feels like I’m floating, and it takes everything in me just to stay upright while he ravages me. With his hands cradling my jaw and neck, he tilts my face back, opening me up to him so he can press his lips down my neck. “I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“You really do need to let off some steam, don’t you?” I try to joke, because it’s the only thing I can do while he’s nibbling on the soft skin beneath my ear. I’ve never seen him like this, either. He’s like a completely different person, holding me still while he takes what he needs.

And this is only the beginning.

“You have no idea,” his shoulders shake slightly with laughter, and the slight stubble on his jaw brushes over the sensitive skin on my neck. I can’t stop the noise that squeaks out of my chest at the feel of it, and my body moves on instinct, pressing against his so I can get more of whatever he’s offering.

One of his hands drifts down my neck, skirting along the outside of my breast and down to my waist. When he slides his fingers under the hem of my shirt, he pauses. His palm is hot against my skin, and I can feel the way his hands are trembling with want. It’s enough to make my center coil even tighter, and I wish his hand was pressed against my underwear instead of my stomach.

“If I don’t stop now, I wont,” he’s breathless, practically panting already, and I can feel the rapid thump of his heart when I lean forward. When he presses his hips forward into my abdomen, the growing hardness underneath his jeans is enough to make me realize just how worked up he actually is.

“Then don’t,” I have to stop myself from grabbing at him in what I’m sure would be a too-desperate move. I want to feel more of him, to know what’s underneath his clothes in a way that I’ve only ever seen from afar.

He bites off a curse at my response, nipping at my ear and pulling the lobe between his teeth. The sensation causes my body to tremble, but before I can make a move, he spins my body around.

“You have no idea,” he pushes my arms forward until I’m braced against the back of the couch for support, my hips bent forward just slightly. Just so he can get me into the right angle to grind himself against my ass, pushing his erection into the soft cradle of my thighs. “God, I’ve wanted you.”

“You have?” I should be ashamed of how breathless I sound now. How weak and trembling my voice is. But the only thing I can focus on is the way he’s moving against me, and the path that his hands are tracing as he tucks them under my shirt to grab at my waist. My hips. My ribcage.

“Why do you think I’m so desperate?” he leans forward to brush his lips against my ear, whispering the words. His hand tracks down around the front of my stomach, reaching forward until he finds the button of my jeans and snaps it open with a quick twist of his fingers.

“Do you know how hard it was not to come out here last night and see if you really meant it?” he growls, pushing his hips against me again. He’s hard, so hard, and I’m aching now. It’s a physical pain between my legs, and even though it hasn’t been as long for me as it has for him, I know it won’t go away until I’m filled completely.

“No?” I shake my head, only willing to tell him the truth. He’s putting himself out there for me now, and I can’t risk it. I can’t risk anything… If I lie, he’ll know. He always does.

“Or this morning?” the chuckle that vibrates his chest against my back sounds more like a growl, and his fingers dip low enough to start tracing the outside of my panties. It’s slow, maddening circles, and I can tell he’s mimicking the movements he would use on my clit if I opened my legs wide enough. “When I walked into the kitchen to see you cooking breakfast in those little shorts you wear?”

He likes my shorts? It’s the stupidest thought to have while he’s grinding in to me, but I can’t stop it from floating through my head. They’re old, probably back from my days in high school, but they’re comfortable and worn-in. And short. Which I hadn’t thought about before, because I didn’t think he was looking.

“My shorts?” I don’t know what else to say, but I know I want him to keep going. Pulling my hair from my neck, he presses slow kisses down my nape, taking his time. He’s not as frenzied now that I’m trapped like this, up against the couch while his fingers dip lower and lower toward the apex of my thighs. But I’m frozen, waiting, because if I make the wrong move I know I’ll risk him stopping completely.

“Everytime you wear those shorts I want to see what your thighs taste like. They sit so high that sometimes,” he pauses for another kiss, this time opening his mouth a little to trail his tongue along the skin, “when you bend over I can see the slightest shadow by your underwear. And it’s all I can think about for days.”

“Oh,” I breathe in, tilting my hips toward his touch. I can’t help but think about all the times I’ve worn those shorts around him. Around Lily too, when I babysit. But I never realized her father was watching me.

“What would you have done? If I came into the kitchen and dropped to my knees in front of you? Would you have opened up so I could have a taste? Or would you have teased me a little and made me work for it?”

“I–” I suck in a gasp when his fingers finally dive beneath the edge of my underwear. He still doesn’t push them inside or seek out my clit, instead continuing his slow, careful circles. I’m probably soaked by now, and I rock my hips forward to get more of his touch. I can barely think about anything else… I’m surrounded by him. His hands. His hips. His words.

“Tell me,” he coaxes, his hand moving just far enough to trace the seam of my opening. It’s teasing and light, but his middle finger slides easily against me. Oh god. There’s a heat radiating from my center, pulsing out with every pump of my heart… I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on.

“I would have–” I have to swallow again, searching for the words. What would I have done? “I would have let you do whatever you wanted.”

“Mmm,” he hums, his lips moving up to my ear again. “What I wanted? I wanted to lay you out on the table and pull those little shorts down your legs, kissing every damn inch on the way down. And then,” he nips at the spot just behind me ear before lathing his tongue across the sting, “I would have licked my way back up. Until you were squirming around, chanting my name. Until you were just as desperate as I am.”

“Peeta,” his name is barely a whisper of breath, but I can’t stop it.

“Just like that,” he laughs a little, finally giving me something of a reprieve. His fingers dip inside of my opening just enough to gather the pooling wetness before dragging it up to my clit and giving it a light brush.

“Oh my god,” on instinct I open my legs wider, but he’s got me caged in. I can’t go far, but I work my hips in tandem against his fingers, pressing down harder for more friction. “Please, Peeta.”

“Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about you saying my name? Begging me for it?” he growls the words a little and rubs himself against my backside, but doesn’t stop the movement of his hands.

“How long?” I ask. I have to know. I need to know. He said he was desperate, but this is… More than I ever expected.

“Days,” when he pulls his hand from my underwear I almost cry out, but he doesn’t stop moving. “Months,” his hands work to pull down my jeans over my hips and down my thighs, and he barely pauses before I hear him unzipping his own. “Years. So long I can’t even remember the first time it happened.”

“What…” I have to swallow through the tight lump in my throat, but his hands are back on me in an instant. Running over the exposed skin of my ass, I tilt my hips back into his touch when he begins to knead the handfuls of flesh. I don’t care if it’s a wanton move–I’ll give him anything right now. Everything. “What else did you imagine?”

“What haven’t I imagined?” his breathless laugh is a warm brush of air on my neck, but one of his hands disappears and I have to fight the urge to glance back to see what he’s doing now.

“I think about it all the time, Katniss. I thought about it this morning when we were on the couch, and I wanted to see if you preferred my fingers or my tongue on your clit. If I could hold off on fucking you long enough to make you come more than once.”

My answer is nothing more than a soft gasp, but when he chuckles again I can’t stop myself. I have to see him. When I turn my head around and finally take a look at him, need coils tighter inside of me. His blue eyes, normally so bright, are dark and stormy, and his jaw is tense. His chest is rising and falling with rapid breaths, and I’ve never seen this kind of look on his face.

It’s determination. And desire, burning hot. It’s pure, unbridled want for me.

When my eyes dip down lower, my jaw drops. He’s running the palm of his hand down the length of his erection as he watches me, unashamed.

“This is what you do to me,” Peeta gives me a hard look, his fingers squeezing as he strokes himself. The head of his cock is an angry red, stretched taught and swollen. “This is all for you.”

I can’t see the details, but I see enough to know that it’s thick. Thick and long, and I’m a little ashamed at the way my eyes lock on him. His movements are quick and expert, like he’s not even bothering to play coy. No, this is how he gets himself off. His fingers squeeze tighter just underneath the head, and he swirls the palm of his hand up and over the tip before dragging it back down. Over and over again, I’m completely entranced.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You want me to take you to your bedroom? I’ll do it. Or do you want me to fuck you right here so you can never look at your couch again without thinking about me?”

“Right here,” I breathe out the words. I don’t care if it’s too desperate or needy, I need him now. My desire has ratched up to the point where my core is actually aching, desperate to be filled. I don’t want to waste any more time than we already have.

A grin tugs at his lips, and it’s a sudden reminder of how devastatingly handsome Peeta can be. How he is, really, all the time.

“Take your shirt off,” he directs me, moving to do the same. In an instant, we’re both naked in the middle of my living room, and my limbs begin to shake with the slightest of tremors. I don’t know if it’s from anxiety or anticipation, but I wait for his next instruction. If this is only going to happen once, I need to make sure that it’s exactly how he wants it.

“Fuck,” biting his lower lip, he reaches out to brush his thumb across my exposed nipple. The sensation is enough to make my entire body start trembling. I feel like a leaf about to blow away, but when he moves down and brushes a wet kiss across the tight peak, my body goes still. “I’m going to be dreaming about you for weeks.”

When he switches to the other breast, lathing his tongue against my nipple before sucking it between his lips, I have to lean back against the couch for support. “Do you remember…” he starts, his hand trailing down his stomach to give his cock a few rough strokes. “That bathing suit you wore to the lake last year?”

“Yes,” I give him a shaky nod, even though it takes me a moment to clear the haze of lust from my mind long enough to remember what he’s talking about. It was a plain black one-piece that Prim convinced me to buy from some overpriced department store, but it’s the only one I have. The neckline dips low and the legs are cut high, but it covers everything better than a bikini would have.

“You went swimming with Lily and when you climbed back on the pier, I thought I was going to go out of my mind,” he stands back up, leaving my nipples swollen and red from his attention. When his hands come to rest on my hips, I let him turn my body back around until I’m braced against the couch, my legs wide and hips tilted up. Like I’m on display.

I love it.

“You must have been cold, because your nipples were these hard little points and it took everything I had in me not to pull you down to your towel on the beach and suck on them through the material,” he braces his body behind mine, positioning his cock right underneath my opening. He doesn’t push in, though, and instead holds himself there.

“You should have,” I admit. Had I known, I probably would have tried to shield myself away from him. But now? Knowing this is how he is? And what he thinks when he’s being so polite and good on the outside?

“Oh, I dreamed about it. Over and over again,” he slides himself forward, running his head between my slick folds until he reaches my clit and then back again. Not quite dipping inside of me, but giving me just enough to stimulate what it might feel like if he gave in. Sucking in a harsh breath I rock back toward him, needing more stimulation. It’s filthy, the way he’s fucking me. Teasing me, really, with the head of his cock against the sensitive bundle of nerves. It doesn’t feel as good as his hand did, but I want to work myself on top of it nonetheless.

To drive his point home he reaches around me to pluck at my left nipple, pinching the tip between his deft fingers, rolling it around until it aches. They’re never usually sensitive, but he’s playing with them like he’s thought about it. A lot. And it feels good, with the right kind of roughness and pressure to send more wetness rushing down to my core.

“Peeta,” I whimper his name, begging him for more. I don’t know how much more teasing I can withstand without melting into the floor entirely.

“You want it?” he slows his thrusts to a maddening pace, drawing back and forward like he isn’t digging his fingers into my hips hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow.

“Please,” I urge him, moving my hips back and forth to seek out more force, more stimulation. My eyelids feel heavy, and it’s taking all the strength I have not to tilt myself back so the head of his cock can slip right inside. I’m wet enough that I know it wouldn’t take much, but I have to let him choose. I’m on birth control, but the last time Peeta had a one night stand he ended up with a daughter.

A one night stand. I try to ignore the way the thought makes my chest feel a little hollow. That’s not what this is. This is more. It has to be.

“Fuck,” he curses when my hips falter, his head dropping forward to rest on my shoulder. “I have a condom, but you feel so good…”

“Get it,” I urge. “Please. I need you, Peeta.”

When he pulls away to dig around for his jeans, I can’t help but shiver at the lack of warmth. Before I can get too uncomfortable, though, he’s pulling at the foil packet with his teeth and rolling the rubber down his length.

“Lean forward,” he coaxes with a hand between my shoulder blades. I follow his lead, bracing myself farther down and backing up so my ass is in the air. When he nudges my feet, I open them wider. I’m even more exposed now than I was before, presented and ready for him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” his words are barely more than a whisper, but I catch them above the rapid pounding of my heart. It makes my skin flush hot, building from my chest all the way up to my ears. “Are you ready?”

His words are teasing, but I can feel the way his hand is shaking slightly when he lines his erection up at the apex of my thighs.

“Yes,” I drop my head forward, clenching my eyes tight. “Please, Peeta.”

A low groan builds in his throat when he pushes forward, my walls tightening around him as our bodies join together. “Oh fuck,” he curses again once he’s seated all the way inside of me, but I can’t answer him. I’m panting, out of breath even though I’ve barely done anything, but my senses are completely overwhelmed. My nerves are on fire at the feel of him inside me, and the head of his cock has bumped that sensitive spot just at the front of my pelvis that brings tears to my eyes.

“Oh my god,” my voice is strangled, and I drop down to my elbows against the back of the couch. The movement only serves to open my hips wider to him, and Peeta grips me tightly.

“Are you okay?” he pauses, his voice tight, strained with tension. I know if I look back at him right now he’ll be gritting his teeth, but I can’t. If I do, if I let myself see him right now, I’ll fall apart entirely. And it’s too soon. I have to hold on for as long as I can.

“Yes,” wetting my lips, I nod. “God, yes.”

I’m sure he’s worried that it’s too tight of a fit and that I’m in pain, but that’s not it at all. My legs are shaking because he feels so good inside of me. So right. So much so that all I want to do is rock back and forth on his cock like some desperate, wild version of myself, giving everything I have to him at once.

So I do.

When he doesn’t immediately move, I do, reaching up on my toes and sinking back down in a careful maneuver so the head of his erection doesn’t hit too deep. The movement makes him shudder out a breath, but he stands frozen while I work myself on top of him, snapping my hips back with every thrust. It feels so good that I can’t, the friction of his length stretching me as I work him deeper and deeper inside. I only mean to do it once or twice, but now that I’ve started, I can’t get enough.

“Peeta,” I groan at the sensation. I’m so wet now that he’s sliding in and out of my pussy with ease, and when I risk a look at him I’m almost overwhelmed at the sight. His eyes are glued to where we meet, his hands digging into the flesh of my thighs while his chest grows bright red. I can feel my inner walls clench against him when I realize that he’s totally entranced by my movements, and I slow my pace down, rocking back and forth with shallow thrusts.

“Do you like that?” I risk asking, even though it sounds awkward coming from my mouth.

At my question, his eyes shoot up to mine and he takes a deep breath. I expect him to smile, but he doesn’t, and gives me a hard look instead. “I like everything you do.”

It’s enough to unleash him, and he grabs my hips to take back control. Holding me in place, he thrusts forward, then pulls back until he’s almost out of me completely. He gives me everything he’s got in steady strokes, pushing and pulling until I’m almost sobbing from the sensation of him. The tight coil of heat that’s been building in my abdomen climbs higher, but it’s not enough. Not yet.

“I need–” I gasp for air, gripping the back of the cushions so hard my knuckles turn white. I’m trying my hardest to keep up with his pounding tempo, but I can barely think. “More. More.”

It’s the only way I know how to ask. I need his fingers on my clit again, working in tandem with his cock. I need his body wrapped around mine, caging me in so that he’s the only thing I can feel. I need more of him, in any way he’s willing to give it to me.

I hear the groan deep in his chest right before his steady pace falters, like my plea was enough to throw him off course. “God, Katniss,” he pants, biting down on his lip. He doesn’t stop though, and only increases the force of his thrusts… Almost like he can’t stop.

When his hand loosens its grip from my waist, I can feel that he’s shaking just slightly. His whole body is trembling despite the desperate way he’s fucking me, and it’s the only thing that gives away just how close he is to losing it completely. Despite his shakiness, his fingers are confident when they find my clit and begin to rub in short, tight circles.

“Oh,” I cry out at the sudden sensation and my knees come together, locking his hand in place, but he doesn’t let up. “Oh, oh oh–” my hips start rocking on their own, like my body is in control, seeking out more of that delicious friction where I need it most. I can feel myself growing wetter and tighter against him, and I can’t stop.

“I’m almost there,” I bite down on the inside of my cheek from crying out too loud. There are a thousand sounds trapped in my chest and if I let any of them out, I know the neighbors will hear. “Keep going, oh, please keep–”

I can feel my orgasm steadily approaching, building more and more pressure in my pelvis with every stroke of his fingers and every push of his length inside of me.

“No,” Peeta stops suddenly, pulling out and grabbing me by the waist. “Not yet.”

“Wait–” I sputter, but he’s pulling me down to the rug before I can even ask what he means by not yet. Before I even know how he’s moved me around so easily, he’s laying flat on his back with my knees bracketed around his chest, which is rising with rapid breaths.

“I want to taste it the first time you come,” he demands, pulling my hips up toward his face.

Holy shit. I’ve never– “Peeta,” I try to resist, but his hands are like iron brands on my skin. I can’t move, and he holds me in place while I try to formulate my protest. “I’ve never–”

“Then let me be your first,” he breathes, licking his lips. “Please. I need this, Katniss. I need you.”

As hesitant as I am, I let him pull me forward the rest of the way until my knees are situated on either side of his head and my lower legs are resting underneath his shoulders, keeping me in my spot if I try to move or squirm in any direction.

“Are you sure?” I ask him, keeping my hips high enough and away from his face while I look down at him, but his jaw is set in a hard line and his eyes have gone dark again. When he nuzzles the inside of my thigh with his nose and takes a deep breath, my entire body breaks out in goosebumps.

“More than anything,” he answers, sweeping his hands down the outside of my legs and back up my thighs, coaxing me forward.

When I lean my hips to the spot over his mouth, he rewards me with a soft kiss at the crease of my thigh, then moves to the other side to mimic the motion. He circles my pussy with light kisses until I’m panting, my hips shaking with want. But he’s taking his time and exploring me with his mouth, his lips, his nose, brushing the light stubble on his chin against the sensitive flesh but never going where I want or need him the most.

“Peeta,” I whisper, moving my hands down to my hips where he is holding on to me, and I wrap my fingers around the outside of his palm. To anchor myself, maybe. Or just to touch him. He’s got me so scrambled that I don’t even know which way is up anymore.

“Now you want it?” he teases, never stopping his trail of kisses. When he nips lightly at the sensitive skin of my outer folds, my hips jerk.

“Yes,” the word falls from my lips easily, and I don’t care if I’m begging for it now. I need whatever it is that he’s willing to give me.

His response is to give me a long, slow lick right up the seam of my lips, lathing his tongue flat when he reaches the swollen head of my clit, and I cry out.

“Oh god–” I choke, gasping for air, but I barely suck in a lungful before he repeats the motion, this time focusing more on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Swirling his tongue around it, he gives it a light flick before flattening his tongue again. Over and over he switches his technique until I’m panting, my legs shaking around his head. I was close before he stopped, and his attentions on my clit are enough to ramp my arousal right back up to the precipice.

“Peeta, oh my god, Peeta,” it’s more of a chant than anything, but it gives my mouth something to do. If I don’t, I’ll start moaning and whining so loud that the entire block will know what we’re up to. “Please, please please please–”

When he wraps his lips around my clit and sucks lightly, I almost fall forward. I would, too, if it’s hands weren’t holding me in place, keeping me upright while he licks me with as much fervor as I’ve ever seen. When he lightly swipes his tongue back and forth across the sensitive bud, my legs start shaking hard.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his breath warm against my swollen flesh. “Don’t fight it.”

With the slight pressure of his hands, he encourages me to rock against his face, flattening his tongue and flicking at my clit in even, steady strokes.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp, moving my hips back and forth across his mouth while he fucks me with his tongue. I can hear how wet I am, and how sloppy it sounds when he’s sucking and licking at my flesh, and the telltale heat of an oncoming orgasm starts to build in my stomach. It washes over my skin and my pulse quickens, fueling me to keep bucking against him. The tremors in my legs spread into my pelvis and my movements go from a steady push and pull to more of an erratic shudder, but I can’t stop. Not when I’m this close.

“Please,” I beg him, ramping up my pace, pressing my hips down harder until I’m grinding against his mouth. I should be ashamed of how bad I want it, and how bad I love the way his mouth feels against my aching pussy, but I can’t get enough. I need it. I need more of it, and him, and everything he’s doing. He must know that I’m getting close, because he leans into it, groaning when I press against this tongue and snap my hips back and forth. The vibration of his groan sends my flying even closer to the edge, and I can feel my entire body start to shake.

I’m so close now, and every pass of his tongue inches me toward what I know will be an overwhelming orgasm. The kind where I lose sight of where I’m at and what I’m doing, and I’m helpless against the pleasure that seizes my body. If his jaw is getting sore, he doesn’t give me any indication. If anything, he’s just as into it as I am, and his pace never lets up. He flicks at my clit, rubbing it with the flat of his tongue, giving me just enough pressure and friction that I struggle to keep my eyes open.

It isn’t until I look down at him and see him staring back at me with dark eyes that my orgasm finally crashes over me, breaking against my body like a tidal wave on the beach. It crashes against me at once, starting in my center and radiating out in flashes of white hot heat, sizzling against my nerves and sending shockwaves to my center. I can feel my walls clenching at the emptiness, and although I don’t feel him move his hand, Peeta’s fingers are suddenly there to fill the space.

Like he knew.

“Oh god,” I gasp at the renewed sensation, and the added pressure inside my pussy is enough to send me careening into another shock of pleasure. This one blurs my vision, and I gasp for air, bucking against his hand and tongue to get more, to ride out the bliss that’s washing over me and trickling down my limbs. “Oh god, oh god, oh god–”

“Mmmm,” Peeta hums, lapping at the moisture that’s leaking around his fingers, and I can’t stop the shudder that wracks my body. Holy shit.

In the aftermath of my orgasm I’m dazed, but I’m struck by the sudden and overwhelming urge to return the favor that he just gave me. I need to show him how much I want him, and to give him the same kind of pleasure that’s still singing in my veins.

Although my joints are stiff and my limbs heavy, I manage to pull away from his mouth where he’s still licking at me with lazy, slow swipes of his tongue.

“What–” he tries to grasp me as I pull back, but I laugh, the sound breathless, and shake my head.

“My turn.”

Scooting down his chest and torso, I settle in around his waist and grip at his erection, which is still hard and prominent against his stomach. He didn’t even bother to take off the condom, and I let out a sigh of relief when I sink down slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” he bites out the curse, his hands immediately grabbing at my waist when I rock my hips against him, working the head of his cock through the tight channel of my core. My walls are swollen from the effects of my orgasm, and I swear I can feel every ridge and vein of him as I finally seat myself on him fully.

“Katniss–” he breathes, fingers digging into my ribcage, and I watch his face closely when I make my first move, pulling my hips back and sliding forward again in a single thrust. His lips part on another breath and his eyes flutter closed, so I do it again. And again, over and over until my pace has quickened and I’m pulling my hips back and forth steadily. It takes him a second to recover from the sensations, but he does, rocking against me and lifting his hips to meet mine in an easy give-and-take.

“Touch me,” I plead, leaning my body back so I can snap my hips forward a little bit harder. I don’t care where he touches me–my clit, my breasts, my face… anything.

“I’ll touch you whenever you want,” he grits out when I circle myself on top of him but complies, one hand moving to my breast and the other down to my clit. He works his thumbs in concentric circles, brushing over the sensitive spots with deft hands. “Wherever you want.”

I’m sure it’s an empty promise, considering we just agreed for this to be a one time only deal. But now, looking down at him and seeing the heat building in his eyes again, the tightness in his neck as he meets my thrusts, I don’t know how I’ll be able to go back to what we had before.

When his right thumb presses down against my clit, I cry out, my hips faltering in their movements. He’s starting to shake now too, and I can feel the slight tremble in his legs as he works his hips in time with my own. The friction from the rug beneath my knees is starting to burn, and I can only imagine how red and raw his back must look. Despite that we’re both breathless and shaking, desperate for each other and rutting as hard and fast as we can. It’s not beautiful, tender sex. This is fucking like our lives depend on it, as if we’re racing to give and get as much pleasure as we can before the clock runs out.

“God, Katniss,” he lets out a deep groan before sitting up, his hands moving to my face to cradle my jaw. His lips press down against mine in a desperate kiss and I open up to him, circling my hips while lapping at his tongue.

I let out a light squeak when he moves his arms down, wrapping them around my torso and holding my weight as he leans me back. Back far enough that now he’s the one on top, with my legs wrapped around his waist, never once pulling out.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to have you,” he admits, trailing open mouthed kisses down my neck.

“I hope it’s worth the wait,” I try to tease, but it comes out weak and breathless, and I lift my neck to the side to give him more access. I don’t have much leverage underneath him but I do what I can to meet his thrusts, tilting my hips toward him with every push of his own.

“You have no fucking idea,” he laughs, moving his hand back between our bodies and seeking out the spot where we join. His fingers brush against my clit again, still swollen and sensitive, and I tighten my legs around him when he starts circling the bud with quick strokes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” he admits, moving his head until our foreheads are resting against each other. With his gaze heavy on me, I see that he’s telling the truth. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, the white of his teeth digging into his lower lip while he concentrates on working his fingers and hips in time together.

“Then don’t,” tightening my legs around his waist, I work my hips against his hand, urging him on in any way I can. “Don’t hold out.”

“God,” he groans again, letting his eyes fall closed, and he unleashes everything he’s been holding back. His pace picks up to an almost frantic speed, pounding into my center with all the power his body contains. It’s enough to make me cry out, but the sound morphs into a choked moan when he leans down and sucks at the spot where my neck meets my collarbone.

“Yes, Peeta,” I gasp, holding on while he pushes us farther across the rug with each forceful thrust. It’s all I can do to hold on, but that’s enough–his fingers are working me so easily that I can already feel the quick build towards my second orgasm. It won’t be nearly as big as the first one, but the telltale tightening in my center is enough of a signal to know I’m getting close.

With every press of his cock and stroke of his fingers, I tighten against him even more. He doesn’t let up, even when his pace grows erratic, moving from long and hard to short and fast, pistoning between my thighs like he’s desperate to reach the finish line.

“Oh,” the moan slips past my lips and I hike my legs higher, opening my thighs as wide as they can go around his waist. It changes the angle of my clit and I gasp, because suddenly, I’m there. I’m crying out before I know what’s happening, tumbling straight into another wave of pleasure as it floods my system with warm, sparking sensations.

“Oh god Peeta–I’m coming,” I don’t know why I tell him, because I know he can feel it. My entire body seizes up, tightening around him as I ride out the orgasm against him.

“Katniss,” he groans, his hips faltering for a brief moment, and I can feel it when he starts to come. His cock pulses inside of me, heavy and strong as his thrusts finally start to slow. He pushes through his orgasm like he doesn’t want to stop, his lips and mouth still sucking against my neck while his hips draw lazy circles against mine.

Oh my god, we’re both out of breath and completely wrung out, and after a moment of holding on to each other, Peeta extracts himself from my grip and falls to the floor beside me. When he flashes me a leisurely grin, I can’t ignore the swooping sensation in my lower stomach.

And I know it has nothing to do with the two orgasms he just gave me.

“That,” he starts, pausing to catch his breath, “was worth the wait.”

“Yeah,” I agree with a heavy swallow. The only problem is, now that I know what I’m missing… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go back to how we were before, even though I promised that it would be “just once.”

I want to laugh at the ironic humor of it all, of how I was the one to promise it could be a one time thing. But I can’t without letting on how truly screwed I am. It was a stupid promise that I shouldn’t have made… Of course I would think it was possible, no matter how dumb it seems now. That was before I knew how perfect he was in bed. How raw and filthy and real he is underneath the facade of my nice, caring best friend.

Now, I know… Just once will never be enough.

#Springtime Edition 2020 #ambpersand #prompt 36 #submission

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everlarkficquestions · 4 years

Note

Hey. I have been attempting to find a fic now for a couple of weeks and I’m not having any luck. Katniss is a racing driver and a single mother. Peeta is an old friend/aquantance who works/maintains her racing car and is also her pit crew when she races. The racing is similar to nascar I think and in the end she gets to the top level as one of only a few females. Gale is involved as a exboyfriend and competitor.

I’ve checked the athletes master list and deleted works list and it isn’t on either of them. I’m hoping you can help locate this mystery fic. Please and thank you.

Hi,

The story you’re looking for is 9000 R.P.M. by Katnissdoesnotfollowback.

Enjoy!

#+#fic finder #literallygirlonfire

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petoskeystones · 5 years

Text

In Which They Go To The Amusement Park

stucky, pepperony, thruce, danbeau, platonic clintasha

no warnings

tw: cursing, maybe anxiety/panic attack

5,556 words

chapter 1/1

no beta because I’m not a coward

Tony was excited to go to his favorite amusement park with his best friends. He was not excited about the fact he had to wake up at three o’clock in the goddamn morning to get there. But he did wake up, and it only took him 25 minutes to get dressed and meander his way into the kitchen.

“Morning, Jarvis. Hey, Peter- what the hell?”

“Hey Tony!” Peter Parker sat at his breakfast table while Jarvis- bless him- made bacon.

“And what are you doing here?”

“You told me to be here at 3:15!”

“Oh yeah.”

And Tony sat down and ate a piece of bacon and inhaled three cups of coffee while Jarvis looked concerned.

“Master Tony, we have to pick up Bruce Banner at three-forty-five.” So the boys grabbed some food and jumped in the car. Once Bruce was safely in the seat next to Tony (Peter had grabbed shotgun, and he was so cheerful at this ungodly hour that Tony didn’t complain) and Peter was rambling away up front, they raced to school and made it to the bus in time to grab great seats. Once they were seated Tony took the opportunity to look around. He saw Thor get out of a black escalade in the parking lot smiling, and as it drove away a hand from the driver’s seat waved (Hela, probably) and a hand in the back flipped him off (Loki, definitely)

Bruce had sat in the window and Thor quickly joined him, just across from Carol and her girlfriend Maria. Carol and Thor were chatting while their respective girlfriend and boyfriend slept. Steve and Bucky were sitting upright like the ridiculously well-adjusted people they were: Bucky was reading some Russian novel and Steve was sketching him. Clint and Nat were not sitting together but opposite each other. Natasha was listening to music and Clint was interrupting her every fifteen seconds. Natasha was capable of murder and Clint seemed to forget that fact. Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne were watching Netflix and-

Pepper. Potts. She walked onto their bus? Pepper was on their bus? Tony nudged Peter, who was already vibrating with pent-up energy beside him: “Did you know Pepper, Rhodey, and Peggy were on our bus?”

“Yeah?”

“Sh-oot. Shoot.”

“You can swear in front of me, you know.”

And thus began the four hour bus ride to the competition and amusement park.

The ride up was actually fun? Peter was surprised that he made it either way though. He could barely make it from the Stark building to the school. And he usually would walk around the bus and maybe talk to someone at the front, or ask the teacher a question, but when Fury was the chaperone he decided to not risk it. He contented himself by scrolling his Tumblr dash for an hour, then checking his regular tags (“ravenclaw”, “adhd”, “thomas sanders” and “science side”), then he rearranged his apps. He also added some songs to his playlist and watched an episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved. Then he texted every group chat he was a part of, chatted with Steve who was across the aisle to him, and took some aesthetic pictures. He also went over his sheet music, scoured the website for the park, and finally fell down a Wikipedia rabbit hole about Dracula that ended up with the Korean revolution. And then they were there.

He was in band, and so was Tony, Bruce, Thor, Carol, Rhodey, Hope, and Bucky. Everyone else was in orchestra. That’s why they got to go on this sweet field trip: they were competing in their individual categories and then would spend the day going on roller coasters.

The performance went well, surprisingly. Peter yawned during their second song but that’s all and he was singled out by the moderator for being the youngest! Skipping two grades had its perks. Then they were on the bus getting ready to go! Peter had his headphones, his earplugs, his earbuds, his phone and his portable charger and his money and his raincoat in case it rained. His science teacher had gone over the weather the day before and it would almost definitely rain, and so everyone brought an umbrella or poncho or jacket. Except Steve and Bucky.

“How does the weatherman know?”

“All that technology can’t be trusted.”

“And besides, Ms Bowey gets things wrong.”

They hadn’t brought anything and everyone was waiting for it to rain to see the looks on their faces.

So after a lot of rules and yelling from Fury, and some smiles and reminders to have fun and to be at the ballroom area for the awards at five pm from Hill, they were off!

Bruce was happy. He was happy to do this forever, maybe: walk around the park holding hands with Thor, smiling while Peter talked and talked and talked, while Steve and Bucky walked side by side with whispers and scowls at Tony, and while Tony suggested every huge and scary coaster in the place, while Nat and Clint walked a ways behind and bickered. No school, no stress, no worrying. Even when Peter stopped to put his headphones over his ears when it got especially crowded and noisy, even when Tony stopped dead and hid behind a bench (Pepper had passed) and even when Clint tripped over absolutely nothing and they had to stop to check that he hadn’t broken anything he was absolutely fine! What a concept.

Carol and Maria were having the time of their lives. They had gone on every medium-level coaster in the park and were excited to try the especially fast and scary ones. The ride up had been nice too: Maria had napped and listened with one earbud to their Queen playlist and Carol had taken the other earbud while she chatted with Thor and exchanged pictures of their pets. Carol’s cat Goose was the greatest cat ever, but Mjolnir was a huge golden retriever and he was pretty freakin’ awesome too.

Carol had only joined band because Thor joined band. Thor only joined because Bruce joined. Bruce joined because Tony talked him into it in sixth grade. Thor had been dismayed to find he was the only jock. Carol had had to choose between orchestra with her girlfriend and band with her best friend, but she decided violins were dumb and took up the trombone. It wasn’t her favorite thing ever, but they got to take cool trips. And now they got in line, holding hands, hair windblown and messy. About five seconds after they got in line it someone put up a sign: the ride was closed due to weather. Good thing, too: it started to pour about five minutes after they left the line.

It started to rain while the group looked for food and Steve was going to punch something, he swore. Tony had an umbrella, Peter had a raincoat, even Nat brought a jacket. Clint had a dumb poncho. Thor and Bruce had jackets too and he and Bucky had nothing. As everyone started to snicker, Bucky scowled and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing Poncho Boy. “

“Poncho boy!” Nat started to laugh. “New contact name.”

“Oh, you’re getting rid of Katniss Ever-lame?” Clint fake-smiled at her.

“Yep,” Natasha already had her phone out and was typing. “Smile!” Clint looked confused and so his new contact photo was him looking confused in a poncho while the rain poured with the new name “poncho boi”. Everyone was already changing the name too. Steve smiled while Clint looked disgruntled. He was still, however, wet. Peter’s hair was starting to frizz and Bucky looked less than enthusiastic. He dragged his boyfriend, along with Tony, Peter,. Thor and Bruce, and Clint and Nat, into a random store that apparently had candy and ice cream. And ice cream cheered everyone right up.

It stopped raining and they headed outside in the post-rain warmth and haze. Everyone else was smiling outside and when Bruce tugged on his hoodie sleeve Thor looked up and saw a double rainbow. He took a picture and posted it to instagram along with most of their friends, but Peter won Best Caption.

The sky said GAY RIGHTS

The speakers around the park had been playing music the whole time and all of a sudden, You’re My Best Friend was playing and through all of the people, Thor saw a tall girl with dark, short hair start wildly waltzing with a shorter blonde girl in a flannel. He smiled.

Their group had a problem, Clint soon realized. Natasha, Thor, Bucky and Tony wanted to go on every single ride and coaster in the park. Peter, Steve and Bruce, along with him, wanted nothing to do with scary rides. So they compromised. They built up to the scary rides and they started with some of the wild, spinny rides; those were Peter’s favorite anyways. There was no line for them. They rode them about five times in a row: Clint and Peter (he was mad at Nat), Nat and Steve, Bucky and Tony (they looked ready to throw the other out of the seat) and Thor and Bruce. Peter weighed about five pounds so he was repeatedly thrown into Clint while they laughed.

Then they went on the pirate-ship that rocked from side to side. Peter wasn’t allowed to have headphones and Nat saw him get worried, so she sat next to Peter and let him latch onto her wrist during the ride.

“HOLY FREAKING- OH MY- Oh wait, this isn’t so bad!” Natasha laughed as Peter relaxed next to her (even though he maintained his grip on her arm) and once they got off of the ride everyone was a lot less stressed.

“YOOOOOO,” Tony yelled. Bruce looked over and saw one of those cheesy games: Guess Your Age, Weight or Birthday! If I Guess Wrong, You Win A Prize! The prize was a large stuffed sloth that was about as big as Peter.

“Nope.” Natasha flat out forbid Tony. “You want to drag that thing around the rest of the day and then on the bus? Bad idea, Tony. Just buy one, you’re literally a billionai-”

He was already giving the lady five dollars and hopping on the scale. Natasha sighed and resolved to join the group with Pepper, Rhodey, Peggy, and Carol and Maria next time.

“So the way this works is that I guess the weight. If I’m wrong by five pounds you win a small prize. If I’m off by ten pounds you win a big prize.” Tony nodded.

“Hmmmm. I wanna say ninety pounds.” Tony stepped on the scale.

“A hundred and ten! Jeez, okay. You win a big sloth.”

“Fine. Nice job, Tony.”

“How on earth do you weigh a hundred and ten pounds? I can bench press you,” Steve wondered.

“It’s all muscle, Steve.” At that, Bucky choked on his water.

They sat down at some benches in order to get situated when Steve’s eyes opened wide and Tony turned around and Pepper Potts, the most beautiful girl in school, his best friend Rhodey’s new sort-of best friend, the girl who was rumored to already have been accepted to Harvard business school, she was walking right towards him and he was holding a ridiculous sloth and also hanging out with a bunch of nerds and Thor.

“Oh, hey, Peg. Hi, Rhodey, hey Pepper!”Steve smiled like he wasn’t talking to a literal goddess, the head of the debate team as well as the head of the Women’s Club at their school, and the greatest person possibly ever.

“Hey, so Tony, Rhodey pointed out your sloth and we were wondering where you got it? It’s so cute!” Pepper smiled at him and Tony would have come up with a good response, he swears, something like oh yeah I won it at that game over there they guessed my birthday wrong! And his friends would have maybe kept their damn mouths shut because they all knew how long he had liked Pepper. He forgot, however, that at the particular late-night study session when he had admitted this, Bucky hadn’t been there and so Bucky ruined it all.

“Yeah the lady at that booth guessed Tony’s weight as ninety pounds because he’s a midget, haha, and he actually weighs one-ten! Which is probably the snacks we’ve all been eating today. It’s funny because Steve’s maximum weight at the gym is one-thirty, Steve could literally bench press Tiny- sorry, Tony, here-”

A few things happened at this point.

Bruce yelled “Bucky, shut up!” while

Steve clamped a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth.

Meanwhile Peter and Thor began to ramble to cover everything up and

Natasha apologized for “my dumbass friends.”

Clint was giggling and the worst part was that

Rhodey shot Tony an I’m-so-sorry-dude-I’ll-talk-to-her look while

Pepper walked away, confused and probably thinking Tony was a short, weird, loser who could be bench-pressed by her best friend’s ex boyfriend, and most likely deciding to never speak to him again.

“BUCKY!” Steve was berating his boyfriend. “Why would you say that?”

“What does it matter, Steve?”

“Bucky. Pepper- Pepper’s the first person I ever really liked, like I really like her!”

“The first person you really-really like?” Steve arched an eyebrow. Tony had confessed to liking him in their freshman year, and Steve had felt the same way for a while too, but it was all in the past now. “The first person ever?”

Tony rolled his eyes. Bucky, meanwhile got the drift.

“Ohhhhhh, shit, Tony, I’m so sorry.”

“As entertaining as this is, guys, we’re going to be late for the awards if we don’t haul over to the pavilion thing. It’s four fifty-five,” Bruce interrupted. “C’mon.”

When Bruce said “C’mon”, the Panic! At The DIsco song got stuck in Peter’s head and he hummed it while they jogged through the park. They found everybody in their school standing at the pavilion, milling around with the students from a bunch of other schools in the area. Peter felt his chest getting tighter and took a few deep breaths in order to calm himself down. Hill and Fury called them all into the huge room and told them to sit with their groups on the ground. Peter hated sitting on the ground. Everybody was so darn loud, why were people so loud? He was sandwiched between Peter Quill, who was yelling something, and T’Challa, who was at least talking at a normal volume to Nakia, and Quill was touching him and everybody was so loud still, and where was Tony? Why were people touching him? Why couldn’t he breathe correctly? He heard Thor yell something across the floor, and his jeans felt weird on his knees, and he really hated the way those jeans felt, why did he wear them? Was the floor always slightly sticky? He grabbed his headphones and slid them over his ears, screwing up his eyes and humming “C’mon” a little louder and tapping a beat on the sides of his headphones. WAs that kid from another school laughing at him? He had to get out of here. Natasha and Clint were the closest to him. Clint noticed Peter and signed “are you o k?” at him. “No. SOS” Peter signed back. (Most of them knew sign language. Clint was deaf and Peter, when things got to be too much for him, would slide headphones over his ears and revert to signing everything.)

“I'm gonna take Pete outside, Nat.” Cluint stood up, earning a glare from Hill, and grabbed Peter’s arm and took him outside. They sat on a bench and watched the ceremony.

The band was the only one in the mixed highschool category and got first place, but the orchestra got third. Peter smiled and met up with ihs friends afterwards, keeping his headphones on but chatting with them nonetheless.

Maria and Carol were in line for the biggest roller coaster in the park. Again. They had been kicked out due to rain, had to leave the line to watch the awards, and now they were back. There was a huge line and Pepper and Peggy were supposed to meet them in the line after finding Tony and Peter and trading Rhodey for Thor. They were looking at a picture of Goose on Carol’s phone when they heard Thor’s loud voice from the back of the line (they were about halfway there, and the line was long as hell) yelling “Carol! Maria! I am here with Pepper and Peggy!”

The girls and Thor started to walk past the people waiting and were almost there when some lady stopped him.

‘Excuse me, where do you think you’re going, young man?” Karen (Carol decided to call her Karen because she looked like a Karen) asked him.

“Well, those are our friends right up there and we were going to ride the roller coaster with them.” Karen looked up at Carol and Maria, still holding hands, who waved at her and smiled. Karen faced Thor again.

“No.”

“But we have to be in a group together! It’s the rules for our school trip. Let us up!” Peggy looked angry.

“Young lady, go to the back of the line!”

Peggy was going to yell some more, and Pepper was seriously annoyed. But then there was a chime from their phones.

Maria: just leave it

Maria: legit it’s okay we can go on this one and y’all can pick another ride

Maria: and meet at another, cooler ride

Carol: my girlfriend is so smart❤❤❤❤❤❤

Pep: fine

Thor: sounds good!

Peggy: i will fight this lady tho

Carol and Maria advanced in the line, and they saw that the coaster even went upside down. They looked at each other and grinned.

“Good practice for when you’re in a fight and your plane goes upside down,” Maria said with a smirk.

“Yes, Maria. Because going on one roller coaster will prepare us for the Air Force. Mhmm. Yep. Okay. Put that on your application, Rambeau.

Carol and Maria continued the back-and-forth that Bruce and Thor loved to watch on their frequent double dates until it was their turn on the roller coaster-

“Sorry, girls. The ride’s full. You get to be first on the next turn!”

Carol was hopping up and down in excitement, and Maria was excited too (just a little less… bubbly) and that’s when the ride lurched forward and took off. They saw how fast it was and it was going to be so cool and then they heard the mechinery of the ride sort of stop. They waited for amminute but they couldn’t see the roller coaster come speeding back around. And then the announcement:

“Laaaaaaaaaaidies and gentlemen, the roller coaster is experiencing technical difficulties and we’re going to have to shut it down for the rest of the night. Our apologies again, and have a lovely evening!”

Maria snapped a picture of the priceless look on her girlfriend’s face.

Peggy, Pepper and Rhodey were having a great time on their own. Peggy was happy to see how much fun all of her friends were having, but the one thing that would have made her day almost-perfect was having a boyfriend there with her. Not because she particularly cared about romance right now, not because she was pining over Steve (she wasn’t) but because she was in a group of either five or three all day. Carol and Maria were roller coaster buddies for life, and Pepper rode with Rhodey because she was the one who had invited him along with their group to spend the day away from his best friend anyways, it would be rude to make him ride with Peggy or with a stranger. So Peggy was stuck with the “dad in the family of three” or the “third wheel” or the “flirty boy who had no sense of boundaries” and she was sick of it. On this ride, which might be one of their last, she turned around to see her prospects and decided that she might as well be proactive and pick someone who looked nice and her age and who would be willing to shriek with terror and exhilaration in the front seat.

There was a group of about seven boys directly behind them and so she took a deep breath and pivoted around, smiling.

“Hey, I’m Peggy. I’m in a group of three-” she indicated Pep and Rhodey, “-and so I was wondering if any of you guys would want to ride the roller coaster with me? Preferably someone who doesn’t mind the front seat and my incessant yelling.”

The boys looked at each other and Peggy worried she was about to be made fun of, or worse, put in yet another bad situation, but instead a boy with a smile and a crutch walked forward.

“Daniel Sousa, roller-coaster-rider extraordinaire, at your service, Peggy.” He smiled and she smiled back and the boys behind her started to giggle and Pepper did too. Peggy didn’t care, though.

Apparently Daniel wanted to go into the military, maybe the government, same as Peggy. He was here with a different school and had lost his leg after a bad car crash when he was a kid. He did martial arts and liked roller coasters and Peggy had a good feeling about her roller-coaster buddy.

The coaster itself was great. Pepper hated it but Rhodey, Peggy and Daniel loved it. And afterwards, when they were leaving to meet Carol and Maria at another ride, Peggy said “Well, it’s been lovely riding roller coasters with you.”

“Come on, Daniel! Give her your number and let’s get outta here,” one of Daniel’s friends called. Peggy and Daniel turned red.

“Shut up, Ray.”

“Wait!” Peggy grabbed a random piece of paper in her pocket, it turned out to be a note Steve had tossed her on the bus reading “does peter quill ever shut the heck up” but she scribbled her number on it and handed it to Daniel.

‘If you ever want to talk more about politics and martial arts, let me know.” Daniel nodded and Peggy smiled before walking away with her friends. As soon as they were out of earshot from the boys, Pepper whooped and Rhodey high-fived her.

“Tooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyy,” Peter groaned in the arcade. “Lend me a dollar. Please. You’re part of the reason I lost five bucks on the bus! You’re a billionaire. Please.”

“What do you want to play, anyways?”

“I want to do the claw machine? They have a stuffed Bulbasaur I’m almost positive I could win.”

“Fine. Have a dollar. One dollar only.” Tony handed it to Peter, who grinned and ran to the machine. Clint was trying to get a stuffed Rowlet, and as soon as he lost Peter pushed him aside.

“My turn, poncho boy.”

Peter did win the Bulbasaur, and he gloated to Tony the whole way to the next ride.

“Okay. So some of us want to go on the huge, scary rides. And some of us want to go on the smaller ones. So Rhodey and Maria are meeting us here, and I’m going with Thor, Bucky and Tony and meeting Pep, Peggy and Carol at that ride that goes up the huge pole thing and drops down? And you guys can go on another ride. Deal?” Natasha finished speaking and nodded at Rhodey and Maria.

“Pep and Peg are at the Big Scary ride, Carol’s meeting them there after she eats her ice cream. Have fun!” Maria waved them off and the new group set off for some smaller rides.

They found one that didn’t have a very long line. It was basically a tilted platform, with a big circle on top with the seats. The circle spun around, slightly elevated, and Bruce took a long look at the machinery underneath. It was greasy and not very well maintained, but still cool.

Peter was hugging his Bulbasaur (“Her name is Delilah!”) and while they stood in line and watched some smaller kids go around and around, Maria picked Delilah up.

“Aww, how cute.” Clint grabbed Delilah away and put her in between the metal railing separating them from the ride. And Peter made to grab Delilah but only knocked her onto the ride. He looked in horror as she spun around, fell off, rolled to the edge of the underneath platform, and settled mere centimeters from falling into the greasy, deep pit of machinery and despair.

“Clint! Look what you did!” Peter said as they watched, transfixed by the steady brushing of the top platform brushing her bulb. The ride stopped, finally after what seemed like an eternity. Peter rushed forward and rescued Delilah, sticking his tongue out at Clint. The ride was starting, and Rhodey yelled “Steve! Your hat!” but it was too late and Steve’s army patterned baseball hat was blown off onto the platform, then off the platform, then it slid down to the gate. After the ride he grabbed it, ignoring the snickers from his friends, and they set off to find their friends. They were not in line for the Big Scary ride, on the ride, or anywhere near the ride.

“I’ll call Natasha.” Clint grabbed his phone and the conversation on the end Peter heard went like this:

“Hey Natasha, where are you? I can’t hear you. Yes I’m wearing my hearing aids, zhopa. I’m hanging up now.” Clint hung up and then said “No idea, couldn’t hear.”

Peter, Bruce and Rhodey went to their group chat with Tony:

Petey boi: tony where u at

Platypus: yeah tiny where r u

Bruce Banner: Tony, where are you guys?

Tiny stank: can’t talk rn guys

“Nothing.”

“Let’s get some food, then, we haven’t had dinner,” Maria suggested.

“Yeah! Let’s get this bread!” Peter punched the air and Btruce closed his eyes in silent pain. He missed his lab, with its complete silence and absence of memes.

They found the food and sat down on some benches in a sort of courtyard area, laughing at Peter as he stood on the tiptoes of his converse to order some tacos. Then Clint saw poor Delilah (who had already been through quite an ordeal) and grabbed her and sat on her.

Peter returned, saying “Dinner orders are in! For Maria, Clint and Steve: hotdogs! For Steve: a slice of pizza! For me and Bruce: Tacos! Where the frick-frack is Delilah?”

Clint snickered and everyone else maintained a poker face.

“You have to find her and then we can leave.”

“Give her to me, Clint!”

“Why do we always assume it’s me that does these things?”

“Because you’re the only one who does these things.” Everyone nodded.

Peter, resigned to his fate, walked in circles around the courtyard while Clint shouted “HOT” and “COLD” and Maria stifled laughs. FInally Peter gave up.

“Where is she?”

Clint stood up, Peter started to pounch Clint’s arm, and then their friends walked up.

“Topolino, what’d poncho boy do to you?”

“He took Delilah, Tony.”

“I swear to god, Tony- if you just referred to Peter using an Italian word that parents call their small children- I’m gonna-”

“Shut it, Steve. Like Bucky doesn’t call you dorogoi more than he calls you Steve.”

They kept bickering through two more small coasters, and another spinny ride, and then when it got dark they walked back to the bus. It was eight pm and they were going home.

Pepper was standing with Peggy and Carol, Rhodey and Maria jogged over and some of Peter’s group followed. Tony went over, too, and so Peter followed and left Clint, Nat and Steve on a bench looking at a vine compilation.

‘Hey… guys,” Tony said and Peter watched him not look at Pepper, but like in a subtle and chill way so it was less of a I’m-not-looking-at-you-because-Bucky-made-me-look-like-an-absolute-buffoon

And more of a I’m-just-really-interested-in-this-story-Rhodey’s-telling-about-that-one-guy-behind-you-on-the-ride

And Peter thought he was doing very well. Then they all drifted away to their own groups and Tony returned to casting wistful glances at Pepper, who was chatting with Peggy and some boy with a crutch and a wide grin.

“Y’know, in the cheesy romance movies, the boy wins a stuffed animal and gives it to the girl. Give your sloth to Pepper!” Bucky aid it like it was an amazing plan.

“No,” Natasha and Peter said in unison.

“If you had won the smaller sloth, and if Bucky had kept his mouth shut, and if you had given the hypothetical smaller sloth to her earlier, and if you were better friends with her, maybe. But if someone you were good acquaintances with gave you a sloth that was, like Peter’s size, and this was after that same person’s friends had acted like idiots- me and Peter not included- that would be red flags that that person had a huge crush on you. Don’t do it.”

Then they were called to get on the bus, and so they did.

AN HOUR LATER

Natasha was smiling at her phone. She was watching her favorite anime, First Squad. Her head was leaning on the chilly bus window, her feet were dangling off of the seat, one earbud was out, and she could hear the bus sounds around her.

Pepper and Peggy giggling and looking at Peggy’s phone.

Bruce and Thor watching Masterchef on Thor’s iPad.

Peter humming a Panic! At The Disco song right behind her.

Tony’s classic rock very faintly, he was blasting it in his headphones.

Carol and Maria quietly singing “Good Old-Fashioned Loverboy”.

Rhodey whispering to Tony, something like “it’s okay, she didn’t care.”

And of course, Clint Barton being a bitchass bus-mate.

Clint was her best friend, a decision she regretted almost every day. Right now she just wanted to watch some anime, relax, and maybe doze off a bit. But Clinton Francis “Poncho Boy” would not let that happen.

Natasha had brought snacks, and in the aisle of the grocery store at ten pm the night before, a big box of Welch’s Fruit Snacks seemed like a good idea.

“Nat, I want a fruit snack.”

“Natty, I can’t open the fruit snack!”

“Tasha, can I have another one? This one is mostly raspberries and those suck.”

“Natka, I started season three of Stranger Things and I swear to god, If Joyce Byers doesn’t get a break this time I will destroy the Monster Of The Year myself.”

“Holy shit, Tashie, you will love this season of Stranger Things.”

Finally Natasha opened her texts and just texted him with both earbuds in.

Poncho boy: it’s too loud on this fckin bus

Nat: take out your hearing aids and shut up

Nat: <shutthefuckupandgotosleep.mov>

Poncho boy: rude

Poncho boy: u know what

Nat: what

Poncho boy: imma watch buzzfeed unsolved

Poncho boy: also fuck you

Natasha was fine with that as long as Clint shut up, so she lay down and tried to fall asleep for a bit but Clint was also laying down (he took off his shoes because he was a horrible human being) and their legs were too long to fit on the seats, so after a brief (read: five minute) foot war they settled by having Clint put his legs on Nat’s seat and Natasha balanced her toes on the edge of Clint’s, she was shorter by about six inches. Clint soon fell asleep and Nat rested her head on her arm and finished her show.

Peter was less bouncy on the ride home. He got a seat to himself and so he curled up with The Office, spinning a fidget spinner and chuckling quietly, and then settled into his playlist until they pulled into the parking lot. That’s when the BIG THING, the thing that made this field trip go from “just another band trip” to a trip that was legendary in their friend group.

TOny had been eating the whole trip: chips in the morning, and then ice cream and tacos and cotton candy at the park, and on the bus home he finished off Natasha’s fruit snack stash with Clint and ate a Hershey's bar he found in his bag. Then he watched Netflix the way home on the bumpy bus ride. And the bus stopped, Peter Kept his earbuds in and then… something changed in the bus. Peter pulled out his earbuds:

So don't go breaking my heart

I won't go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

And nobody told us

'Cause nobody showed us-

“What the fuck just happened?”

“LANGUAGE, Mr. Lang.”

“Tony? You OK?”

Tony Stark, the heir to the biggest tech company in the world, a genius, the coolest dude in school, had just thrown up in the dimly lit bus aisle with his crush- the beautiful, incredibly smart and poised Pepper Potts, sitting two seats in front of him. Natasha started to yell.

“You guys. Let’s just get off of the bus, everyone.” Clint supplemented with “Shut up, Burch. It could have happened to anybody.”

Everybody got off of the bus except peter, Tony, Delilah, and the giant sloth that Tony named George. Tony looked at Peter. He really didn’t look that bad.

‘I should have given her the sloth, Pete.”

Peter laughed despite everything and helped Tony off of the bus, where JARVIS was waiting.

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ao3feed-everlark · 6 years

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by katnissdoesnotfollowback (lost_on_cloud_9)

Stuck in a dead end town and a dead end job, Katniss takes a gamble with the one thing she got out of her divorce -- a beat up sports car turned racer. She was always the better driver anyways. With a little help from a mechanic with blue eyes and golden hands, she turns that gamble into a chance for a better life for her and her daughter. But racing is still a boys' club and the road is never easy for a single mom.

Words: 8728, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English

Fandoms: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Hunger Games (Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage

Categories: F/M

Characters: Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Original Child Character(s), Gale Hawthorne, Johanna Mason, Foxface (Hunger Games), Thom (Hunger Games), Haymitch Abernathy, Primrose Everdeen, Gloss (Hunger Games), Darius (Hunger Games), Mitchell (Hunger Games), Plutarch Heavensbee

Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Other(s), Peeta Mellark/Other(s)

Additional Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, those always seem to be the first two tags i add for my stories hmmmm....., Consensual Underage Sex, as in all involved parties are between the ages of 16 and 19 at the time of the dirty deeds, with no more than a two year age gap between sexual partners, and did i mention that it's all consensual? okay good, unprotected sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, use condoms people, Teen Pregnancy, Teen Romance, and then they grow up, Minor Character Death, Infidelity, Road Rage, or i guess track tempers????, racecar driver Katniss, mechanic Peeta, and a shit ton of mysoginistic assholes, mores2sl, mores2sl 2018, more stories 2 save lives

#everlark #thg #thg fanfic #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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hellisfullandcold-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 1: "Oh Katniss. You look so pretty." Angel cooed as she got a good look at her little sister, now ready for her first Reaping. She really does look beautiful. I hope she catches the eye of that boy, Peeta Mellark I thought, and now time for me to get ready. Angel sighed. This was her second to last reaping and she was as nervous as hell. She went to the kitchen only to find Gale Hawthorne there in his very cute pale blue shirt and black trousers. Angel went up to him and ruffled his hair. He knocked her hand away. She chuckled. "Do you know where Mom is?" she asked him. He shook his head. "Are you going to walk to the Reaping with Katniss?" He nodded. "Yeah...Do you know where she is?" he asked her. Angel pointed to her bedroom. He ran off, shouting his thanks as he went. She went to look for her mom upstairs, where she would most probably be, bathing Prim. She look in the bathroom and found her lying in a pool of blood with a large stab wound in her stomach. "MOM! KATNISS, GET THE PHONE! GALE, GO AND GET SOMEONE!" she screamed, tears rolling down her face. Katniss came running up with the phone and she felt a cold breeze drifting through the house and Angel heard Gale screaming for help down the street. She tried to ring a 12 doctor but the phone number came up as being used and she realized she had rung her own house. She threw the phone out the window, frustrated that no one was coming to help her mother. She ran over to the now smashed window and saw Gale standing in the middle of the street looking helpless as he saw all the drawn curtains around him. She raced downstairs and out the door and screamed. "MY MOTHER HELPED YOU WHEN YOU WERE SICK OR SOMEONE YOU KNEW WAS SICK. SO WHY NOT HELP HER WHEN SHE HAS A STAB WOUND AND IS DYING?!" Angel heard a creak of a door and she looked around to see someone coming out of their house. She sprinted over to her. "Could you show me your mother?" the woman said soothingly to Angel. She nodded and ran with the woman hot on her heals. She went to her mother still lying in a pool of blood with Prim crying her eyes out next to her. The woman went over to her mother as she went to her youngest sister and pulled her into a hug along with Katniss who was just standing there with tears in her eyes. They hugged until they had no more tears to cry. Angel then turned to the woman with hope in her eyes about whether her mother was alright. "Well I've done the best I can. She must go to the Capitol to get it properly sorted out." the woman replied. Angel felt her heart drop. A ride to the Capitol takes at least 2 days and her mother could die in that amount of time. And who would look after Katniss and Prim since she would have to go with her mother. "Don't worry. I'm sure that Hazelle could look after your sisters. You know Gale Hawthorne's mother. I'm very good friends with her and Katniss is very good friends with Gale so I'm sure she'll look after them for a few days." the woman said, reading her thoughts. Angel nodded. She was sure that would work out. "Thank you..." she started to reply but the trailed away since she didn't know her name. "Sapphire Hunt. And it's quite alright. I was only doing what I could, which honestly wasn't much." "Thank you anyway. It is much appreciated what you have done no matter how much." Angel thanked graciously and finally went to her room to get changed into her Reaping clothes. It felt weird that she wouldn't be able to go to the Reaping but she still dressed in those clothes because they were pretty and she wanted to impress the Capitol. She briskly strolled out of her room and went to find Katniss, Prim and Gale. She eventually found them in the living room/kitchen with Sapphire and Hazelle. All eyes turned to her. "I take it that you won't be going to the Reaping and going straight to the Capitol with your mother." Hazelle asked straight-forwardly, losing no time to find out whether she has to take Katniss and Prim to the Reaping and look after them for a while. Angel nodded. "Sorry that it's such short notice but she needs to be looked after and I don't think anyone in District 12 can do that. Well maybe my mother but she's unconscious on her bed upstairs." she replied also straight to the point with her words. She saw Hazelle eyes brim with tears when she heard that information. "Can I see her? As she is my son's best friends mother." she asked, her lip trembling to hold back the tears. Angel nodded, too surprised for words that her mothers friend/enemy was concerned about her mother. Hazelle got up and walked up the stairs, eyes over-tipping with water. Angel sighed and turned to Katniss, who was holding Prim. "You need to go with Hazelle and Gale to the Reaping as I won't be there because mom is dying on her bed and I need to look after her." Katniss nodded understandingly and went to pack some clothes for her and Prim for staying with the Hawthorne family. Angel then turned to Sapphire and started to say her thanks but she got interrupted. "Don't worry about it. Again, I was just doing what I could do so there's no need to thank me." "But there is. I wanted to thank you for making sure Katniss and Prim had a home for when we were away and for doing even your best because that could make a whole lot of difference in my mothers life." Sapphire nodded, as if accepting Angel's thanks. "Now to get you and your mother to the train station." "What the bird feathers is this place?" Angel exclaimed in surprise. She looked around the fancy place that was somewhere near the train station. She was in shock that a place like this even existed in District 12. She thought that every thing was ruined. "This, my friend," Sapphire started, "is the train station." Angel stared at her in complete shock. This was the train station. "Yeah...Uh it's quite fancy for District 12 right? But hey ho. The Capitol thought that we should have at least one fancy thing so it's quite a surprise for anyone who does come here. Am I right or am I right?" Angel laughed her sweet laugh and it echoed all around them. Just then, the sound of a train sounded and a train with the Capitol seal on pulled up. The doors opened and Effie Trinket stepped out. She looked ahead and saw Sapphire and Angel with her mother. "Well hello there. Did you hear about my coming and came to welcome me into your District?" Angel and Sapphire opened their mouths to reply but Effie beat them to it, finally noticing Angel's mother in her arms. "Probably not. I suppose you want to use a train. But the next one won't be a while so would you like to ride mine to the Capitol? I'm sure no one would care. Besides you look like you need to get to the Capitol Hospital quickly." They nodded. "Well I'll speak to the driver and see if he could take you to the Capitol." she trotted off, her high heals clinking as she went. Angel turned to Sapphire, who was staring after Effie with a look of wonder and bafflement. "Are you alright? You look confused." she asked Sapphire, also staring after Effie, wondering what was going on. "Yeah. Just that....Never mind, it doesn't matter." she replied to Angel, shaking off what ever she was going to say. "No it's not 'nothing'. What is going on? Why were you staring at her like that?" Before Sapphire could reply, Effie came back with a spring in her step. "Well. The driver has agreed to take you three to the Capitol. You must stay there though until the Games are over because no one will agree to bring you back here in case they miss any part of the Games that is important or not. Sorry about that." Angel and Sapphire nodded. They were fine with that. Hazelle won't mind taking Katniss and Prim for a few more days, even if it is a month. They started to get on the train when Effie said: "Sapphire and Angel, you might want to visit your fathers while you're in the Capitol. They're very lonely." And with that she left. Angel and Sapphire looked at each other, surprised that Effie Trinket of all people would know their fathers. They boarded the train only to be even more amazed by how posh it was. They found a room and lied Angel's mother on the bed. They started to explore the train even more and found a buffet car with cakes, scones with jam, fruit, proper meat and much more. They looked at each other in delight and started to dig in to the lovely food on the tables. By the end, they had had 14 scones, 11 cupcakes, 15 pieces of fruit and piles of beef, duck, deer, pork, chicken and lamb. So basically, they were stuffed. Angel wanted to check on her mother so they got up, very slowly, and went to the compartment with her mother in. As they walked there, Sapphire decided to go to bed. And off she went. Angel slid the door to her mothers compartment open and saw that someone was there with her mother. She ran to find a bucket, filled it with ice-cold water and tiptoed back to the compartment. She tipped the bucket over the person and they woke up with a shout. Luckily, they were nowhere near her mother so no water went on her. The man caught sight of Angel and glared at her. "What are you doing with my mother?" she questioned confidently. The man's mouth went into an 'oh'. "This is your mother, is it?" Angel nodded, "Well I'm sorry. I thought it was one of the tributes." he sneered at her. She glared at him back and sniffed. "Well I would appreciate it if you get out of her compartment." "Oh what do we have here? Aren't you feisty?" he smirked at Angel. She saw the hunger in his eyes and she hated it. He ran his eyes up and down her body and she cringed. "What's your name, dearie?" he asked, seducible to her. "Like I'm going to tell you." Angel spat at him. He rolled his eyes at her. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. I'm Haymitch Abernathy." "Fine. I'm Angel Everdeen." she replied, giving in. "Angel you say. Is it short for something? Sounds like Evangeline." he queried. Angel stuck her chin in the air. She absolutely hated that name. Haymitch noticed this. "Got it in one, did I?" Angel huffed and left the room. She really didn't like that conversation. Instead she decided to go to sleep. She found a compartment and fell into a dreamless sleep. Angel woke up to Sapphire, shaking her awake. "Come on. We're here at the Capitol." That sentence made Angel wonder how long she was asleep. "By the way, you were asleep for a whole day." Sapphire said, reading her thoughts. "What?! A whole day?! Are you kidding me? How's my mother? Is Haymitch behaving himself? Because last time I checked he definitely wasn't." Angel ranted, saying anything that came into her head. Sapphire let a shaky breath out. "Too many questions. Yes a whole day. No I'm not kidding you. Your mothers fine. Who's Haymitch? I haven't seen a Haymitch on this train. But if he is on here, then yes he is definitely behaving himself." she answered Angels questions. Angel let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "Well then let's go and get my mother fixed, shall we?" "No way are you going like that. You need to get dressed." Sapphire said disappointedly. Angel looked down at herself and saw that she had been stripped down to her underwear. She had went to bed in her Reaping clothes. She let out an angry breath. "Haymitch. Alright get out and I'll get dressed." "Okay. There are clothes in the wardrobe." Sapphire called out as she walked. Angel looked around the bedroom and saw a wardrobe that she didn't notice the night before. She walked over to it and slowly opened the door. She looked in and saw a range of beautiful dresses. She reached in and pulled out a indigo dress. She hung it up on the door and went into the bathroom to have a shower. Angel switched on the shower and stepped in. She let the hot water fall down onto her as she thought things over. She had to go to the Capitol Hospital to have her mother seen to, then she had to find a place of accommodation and finally she had to stay in the Capitol with a poorly mother and a friend of her mothers while the Games are going on and worrying about two sister, one just seven months old. It's ridiculous. But hey ho. It's not her fault that they have to stay there for two months. Angel stepped out of the shower and dried herself of with a towel lying around. She then stepped under this massive hairdryer and dried off her nearly-white blonde hair. She put it up in a plait-bun and went to put on the dress. She had to call in Sapphire to do it up but apart from that everything went swimmingly. Angel and Sapphire went to breakfast and they didn't eat nearly as much as they did the night before. "Don't you think that those dresses are a bit too extravagant for just going to the Hospital? Huh?" said a voice out of nowhere. Angel turned around to come face-to-face with the one-and-only Haymitch. "No I don't think so. So why do you. I mean it's not like you know anything about dresses, is it?" Angel snapped back at him. "At least the Capitol won't think we are the tributes, right? And did you come into my room last night and undress me? Well did you? Because I went to bed in my Reaping clothes. And I saw how you were looking at me yesterday. Just admit it, will you?" Haymitch lowered his head in admittance and Angel started to fill up with joy inside. She had gotten a grown man to admit his actions. If that wasn't an achievement, she didn't know what was. The Capitol was a very exuberant place. There were colors everywhere. Angel had to blink several time to get used to them. But Sapphire seemed unfazed. That's strange why isn't she blinking? Angel shook her head to rid herself of thoughts. A man came up to the front and Angel recognized him as President Snow. He put his arm around her and waved to the crowd. "How was it to be chosen as Tribute?" he asked Angel. She blushed to be asked that. Before she could even open her mouth to answer, Snow started to lead her to a building and Sapphire was having to scurry after them. Angel looked back at her with an apologetic expression. She was given to a team of make-up artists. They pushed her down in a chair that had magically appeared after they had stripped her dress off and started to clean all her make-up off her face. Then they lead her to an en-suite bathroom where they started to wax her legs and eyebrows which hurt like hell. "What the bird feathers are you doing to me?" Angel exclaimed so loudly that the make-up artists looked at her with shocked expressions. "What do you mean? We're getting you ready for the cameras as you are a tribute." replied the woman, who was waxing Angel. She remembered from the last Games that this woman is called Venia. "No. I'm not." Angel replied simply. The woman with orange hair(Octavia) gave a little shriek and the green-skinned man(Flavius) fell to the floor in shock. "What do you mean that you're not the tribute?" exclaimed Venia. She was leaning on the armrest of Angels chair quite heavily. Angel thought that if she didn't get off soon, the chair would collapse. Angel jumped up quickly and Venia sat down in the recently vacated chair, looking as if she would faint. "I mean that I'm not the tribute. I think it's pretty clear what that means. I wasn't Reaped. I wasn't chosen as tribute." Angel said very slowly to make this clear. She felt as if she was teaching children in District 12. No offence to them of course. They don't have the best of education back home, learning about the mines and how to avoid explosions. The very thought brought tears to Angel's eyes as she remembered that her father had been killed in this mine explosion 9 months ago. She blinked the tears away furiously and turned to the door to walk out of there when a voice interrupted her leave. "Well you can't just walk out." "Why can't I? I'm not a tribute and no ones stopping me from doing it." Angel sassed back at this unknown man/woman. She couldn't tell which by the sound of their voice. She saw something in the shadows move and a boy around the age of 18 stepped out. He had white-blonde hair and stormy silver-grey eyes. He had a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. He could have been quite handsome if he didn't have that infuriating smirk that was always stuck on his face. He held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy. You are?" "I thought you knew that since you said I couldn't walk out." Angel replied, putting her hand on her hip cheekily. He smirked and a hunger glinted in his eyes. Angel flinched. "Just tell me your name, will you?" he demanded. "Angel Everdeen." she replied, wincing visibly under the pressure of his gaze. He softened it when this happened. "Look you can't back out because President Snow has already put your name as a tribute. And when you name's down, it's not coming off." Draco explained. Angel sighed in disbelief. "Look. Can't you persuade Snow to take my name off the list because Sapphire and I only came here so my mother can get healed. But Sapphire had her and now Sapphire's gone with her somewhere else." she ranted, now with tears flooding down her face. Draco pulled her into a comforting hug and 'ssshhh'ed her to calm her down. "What happened to your mother?" he asked softly. Angel just shook her head and cried into his sweater. "Look it's okay. I'm here. You can tell me. I swear I won't tell anyone." he cooed to her. She looked up at him with a tear-stricken face. Angel nodded, agreeing to tell him. "Well it all started with me trying to ready for the Reaping....." And that was how it started with Angel telling the story of her journey here and the mistakes. Oh how she wished that her mother was alright. And then Draco asked a question that made her uncomfortable. "What's your mother's name? Not to be rude or anything but if you want, I can find out if she's alive and if they managed to heal her? All I need is a name." he reassured her. Angel shook her head. "I don't know her forename. She never told it to me. But will 'Everdeen' do? Because you could just look if there is anyone under the name Everdeen or there's a slim chance that they'll be under Sapphire's last name, Hunt." he nodded. "Yeah that could do. Listen, I need you to go back to your make-up artists because they need to get you ready for the Chariot Ride. Because, whether you like it or not, you are now a tribute." "But what will happen when the real District 12 tribute show up?" Angel asked, her voice still raspy from balling her eyes out. "Well then we'll get to that bridge when we get there, won't we?" he said with a smile in his voice. By the time Angel's makeup artists were finished with her, she was placed in the middle of a white room, stark naked, waiting for her stylist. The door opened and in strutted Draco with a robe over his arm and a piece of material over the other arm. He circled her once, inspecting her body closely. Then he threw the robe at her. "Put this on. And don't talk about anything you want to talk about." he winked at her saying we'll talk later. "Okay," Angel started talking while putting on the pearl-white robe, "so you're my stylist." "Yeah and the plan for your Chariot Ride, as you can tell by the colors on your make-up, is that you're going to become the fire. Literally." Angel's eyes widened as did Draco's smirk. "Wait. So basically your telling me you're going to set me on fire?" he nodded and she stood up straighter than she has ever stood before. "Of course not with actual fire but with a fake flame. If that's okay." Angel nodded, relived that she wasn't going to burn like a cigarette. Or anything worse. "Have I got a tribute partner?" Draco nodded and as if on cue, in came a guy of about 17 came in. He had chisled black hair and bright blue eyes. In Angel's opinion, he seemed familiar. He held out his hand for Angel to shake and she did gladly. "I'm Matthew Everdeen."

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punkwhodrinkstea-blog · 7 years

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Responsibility as a Writer/Creator

Hello folks! It’s been a while… I think. I can’t keep track of how often I write blog posts, I just kinda make them as they come to mind. I have spent all of my writing time on my book, that is until this blog post. Though I’m sure I’ll get to work more on my book after writing this. Anyway I am now a part time online student and my classes are not weighing on me much. My classes are easy so far but not super enjoyable due to doing very basic tasks and seemingly useless homework. It’s not so painful that I regret it or even think I should have done something different which is good cause I am learning, brushing up on skills and getting better at using Adobe products and that is the goal, so I can’t complain. It could certainly be worse, in fact I am currently empathizing with my girlfriend right now. She often puts too much pressure on herself and it is the end of her school semester and she’s been stressed and busy. I can actually feel it and I’ve tried to help as much as I can to save her from the hussle and bussle of highschool pressure. She’s only got a couple easy art/media exams which I’m sure she’ll make look easy. Actually other than her stress, life has been pretty great. I have a good healthy lifestyle right now other than maybe not enough sleep. I’m averaging somewhere between 6-8 hours of sleep then I work for 4 hours a day. I generally get home and make myself a healthy lunch and then either play video games, work on art or write. Next I do a couple hours of homework and then use the night to either be more productive on things or chill out reading, writing or I end my night off with an episode of Anime or a match of a videogame. I have no complaints. But I do have thoughts, let’s get into that.

So as the title of this post says, I think every writer or creator of any kind has a responsibility. That responsibility is to create something that should point the view to something positive. I’m going to use the original Pokemon TV show as an example. This show starts of with Ash who wants to be a Pokemon Master (who doesn’t?) But he starts off so dumb and rash. He’s cocky, ignorant and has few values other than catching Pokemon and winning battles. Each episode has some sort of life lesson or shows the viewer how to be a good person and have good morals. Now I’m not saying everything we write and create has to have this type of lesson incorporated into each episode because I’m sure most people are making things more complicated or are trying to express something more than that. Perhaps you are trying to show something that’s evil or dark in some why. Also I am not saying that the protagonist can’t be a bad person either. A great example there would be the Anime, Death Note. The main protagonist starts off as an understandable person who wants to create a “necessary evil” to rid the world of bad people. He trusts that his moral compass is worthy to be the world standard and therefore he will decide who lives and who dies based on their actions. However he is consumed with his vision and hopes to be “the god of the new world” as he puts it. This is when he goes off the rails and his evil intent is made more clear. For a while I was actually on his side in thinking yes, the human race sucks and deserves some more punishment for those who are rapists, murderers and overall morally crappy people. But things change and eventually even the viewer (in this case me) begins to want him dead. So back to this responsibility thing; we need to make it clear what is good and what is bad and what is realistic. For example when you watch a chick flick they all to often do things that are immoral and unrealistic but is treated as if it’s a good, normal thing that can happen to anyone. I mean people don’t fall in love after the first date and then have magical uhh “adult time” that night because they are great people who truly love each other. This never happens! If you can get that attached to someone that fast and get so intimate that fast, it’s because you’re probably an idiot and/or a slut. This also goes for action movies though. Like when a girl with flawless hair, skin and a revealing outfit is wielding a gun and somehow walks away looking perfect without her makeup ruined or a hair out of place. Now I understand that hollywood wants us to believe that their world of perfect people and perfect everything is cool and entertaining but really we all walk away holding an unrealistically high expectation for ourselves and sometimes others. Another thing we must craft carefully is the personality of a person in the world they are in. My example this time is a newer movie “Baby Driver”, it’s a great movie but sadly it has already broken now two of the things I think is a little irresponsible of the creator. First was the instant “Love” thing, but at least these two didn’t sleep together. The other is the main character’s personality, He’s a good kid with a great moral compass who is genuinely happy. That’s not bad but his lack of talking in most scenes is along with always wearing earbuds. He has tinnitus so he is always listening to music to drown out the ringing in his ears. However if I went through life always with earbuds in my ears others wouldn’t like me too much (not like many people like me anyway). I mean it’s simply considered rude and it is also impractical. Lastly he rarely talks, it’s not like he’s introverted, which he is but it’s to the point where if this was real life other people would get annoyed that he never communicates. However because it’s a movie the writer and director could make a world and other people somehow tolerate these impractical things and in this case even make it look cool. Actually sorry one more thing.

I just think that a writer (or other creators) should make the characters get treated accordingly to how they act and what they do. Instead of things somehow always workout in their favor. By creating a world that favors the main character and by making seemingly perfect people makes the story less believable and just another thing that we compare ourselves to which we can’t realistically reach. Now I know most characters in movies aren’t perfect but let's face it, the world they are put in makes even the main character’s flaws seem like a good thing and I think that those flaws should have a little backlash in the world. Like I said, don’t make the world favor the main character and reward them for their flaws. My thoughts are really scrambled but I think the point I’m trying to make has been made.

Next I want to focus on flaws but not just in the sense of storytelling. I want to talk about how flaws can be a good thing and a bad thing. Flaws in a person can be bad in obvious ways. You know if someone’s greedy they won’t likely help others or their actions will be self serving at the cost of others. What about other little flaws like let’s say snoring? This is an imperfection in the human respiratory system somewhere between the mouth and lungs. (I’m not a science person). However from my perspective when my girlfriend does this sorta strange snore thing when she sleep. I find it adorable and relaxing. These are how flaws are made to be viewed when a main character has a flaw and the views/readers are exposed to it in such a way that it seems to become a good thing. Now I Love my girlfriend and I adore her cute snoring but technically it’s an imperfection in the respiratory system (actually in this case it has something to do with tonsils), I’m going to miss it when it’s gone. In fact I learned some of this from a great movie called “Good Will Hunting”. Basically a wise older guy is bestowing his nugget of wisdom upon a delinquent boy about a true relationship. He’s talking about a romantic relationship but what he says can apply to all relationships. Basically he talks about how when you get to know someone more and more you will find more and more qorks, strange habits, flaws and insecurities. But don’t let these things stop you from liking them, loving them and don’t let them be a reason to stop the relationship or to stop getting closer in the relationship. He says these are some of the most valuable things in the relationship, the things we bond over and things we grow from and through. My best example is my girlfriend and I who are filled with insecurities and flaws but we don’t let this get in the way of loving the other as much as we possibly can. We value these things and those problems and insecurities are there for us to help one another overcome them and grow as both a couple and individually. Long story short DO NOT underestimate the value of flaws and qorks in a person. Now of course if the person is a down right dick then perhaps keep your distance. Back to the story thing is that sometimes these flaws are down right bad, for example Katniss from the hunger games who is a down right jerk to those around her but is she known as a jerk? No. She’s instead referred to as “strong” or “independant”, this was irresponsible of the writer because now we have a bunch of girls who think it’s ok to be acting like a bitch as a sign of being strong and independent when it’s not and it’s not ok. But maybe I’ll talk more about that sort of thing another time.

Anyway I’m done. Just done with writing for today. I just want fill you in on a great blessing I got and something I haven’t talked much about here on my blog. This blessing is my car. Now it’s most teenagers dream to get a car due to it looking cool and feeling independant and I sorta get it now. I mean I am well out of highschool now and my girlfriend is about a 30 minute drive from my house so I can’t really bus or bike down the highway. But what is a good life lesson here is that I originally wanted a different car. It was double the price and had a couple very minor issues. However it didn’t workout and I ended up finding the car I own now. It’s a silver Toyota Yaris, the most generic small hatchback car you will ever… not notice. However it’s amazing. It’s small size make it great at everything except slippery roads and really windy days. However I am still using summer tires in the winter and I’m yet to having any close calls or any concerns. Next it can turn on a dime making parking lots and U-turns a breeze. Also due to it being a hatchback it actually has a ton of room for a car it’s size. Fold down the back seats and you have enough room for a queen size bed and a bike or two. Lastly is that it’s great on gas. Also it doesn’t have power windows or any fancy media tech like Bluetooth or anything so my girlfriend get to make old school CD’s for my car. Maybe I’m just really positive but I think this is better than having the newer built in hard drives that new cars have. This forces me and my girlfriend to have to put more effort and thought into what we’ll be listening too as we drive and therefore not just anything. Maybe I’m old school or hipster but having actual CD’s for us to look through, collect and bond over will be fun. Also roll down windows are fun for drive throughs haha. Anyway sorry my post felt so uhhh… all over the place. I’m gonna go. Peace out!

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 6 months

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Since you're on a 9000 RPM answer kick right now, I'm so curious...

Peeta, knowing that Katniss was married, showed up to the race with parts for Katniss' car.

Was he hoping she was divorced? (Possibly having heard her name announced at the track as 'Everdeen'?) Or was my mans just so unbelievably still thirsting over her that he was willing to risk it all?

This is a question I prefer to answer with a few scenes from Peeta's pov rather than trying to explain it. Hope you enjoy!

<3 kdnfb

“You’re shitting me, right?” Peeta asks and glances to his left, pushing his body closer to the wall and the pay phone he’s using so an old man can get past him to the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t shit you. You’re my favorite turd,” Levi retorts. Peeta would laugh at the joke, since he walked right into it, if what his brother just told him weren’t so fucking ridiculous. “It’s the best we could do. Mom and I don’t have time to sit around Capitol, waiting on a bus, and I’m not asking Leah to do it. She’s got enough on her plate with the kids. This was the best we could do.”

“I get that,” Peeta says and shifts his frame again as yet another person excuses themselves to get by him. This pay phone is horribly placed, he thinks with a frown. “It’s just… really?”

“Think of it like you parked it at the bus station and just left it there… without stealing it.”

“Does it at least have gas in it?”

“Didn’t look,” his brother says and Peeta bites back a curse. “Keys are in the glove box.”

Peeta opens his mouth to ask what the fuck he’s supposed to do if someone realizes between now and then that the truck is unlocked and steals it, but there’s a loud crash and the sound of a child screaming.

“Fuck. I gotta go. Call us when you get to Capitol.”

The line disconnects and Peeta snaps his mouth shut. Then hangs up the phone with a little too much force. He listens to his change dropping down into the reservoir and clenches his jaw, breathing deeply a few times before he turns back around and returns to where he left his bag by the diner counter. His burger has arrived and he sits down to eat, keeping one eye on the bus terminal across the way to make sure he hasn’t misjudged the timing and gets left here without enough cash to buy another ticket home.

He swallows and rinses the food down with a coke. Barely flicking a smile and a “Thanks” at the waitress when she brings the check. When he’s done eating, he feels like a dick for leaving the tip almost all in change, but at this point, it’s better to assume that he’s going to need the bills he has left to put gas in the truck. It’s highly unlikely Levi thought to leave their dad’s old truck at the bus terminal with enough gas for Peeta to get home.

He doesn’t miss his bus, and even though the seats are still as uncomfortable as they were on the first leg of this trip, he manages to get some sleep. Probably because he’s just so damn tired at this point.

The bus driving over a speed bump and jostling violently enough to make a few of the passengers cry out is what wakes him. Peeta rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks through the tinted windows at the eerily familiar bus terminal in Capitol City. It’s like he never left. He’s pretty sure he recognizes some of the graffiti on the wall and there’s still trash caught in the grass and weeds growing up against the chain link fence.

Thankfully though, there are no flat tires on the truck. It hasn’t been stolen, and his brother left half a tank of gas. It’s enough, barely, to at least get him in the right county. He’ll probably still have to stop for gas somewhere around Seam.

The thought makes him pause, mid action while he’s pulling on the seatbelt. Maybe he should stop here for gas, he decides. Not that he thinks Katniss will still be in Seam, Alabama. But he’s paid attention to the new drivers in Tribute League every year and still hasn’t seen her name. Not as Katniss Everdeen, and not as Katniss Hawthorne.

He finishes buckling and drives off the lot, finding a gas station before heading towards the interstate. The drive goes by faster than he’d expect or want, dreading his return home. And that goes much as he’d expect, too. His mother gives him a perfunctory hug before telling him supper will be ready in a few minutes and she left clean sheets on for him on a bed upstairs but she didn’t have a chance to make it.

He drops his bags in the old room he used to share with his brother and stares at the makeshift cot his mother set up for him, shoved against the wall. A set of clean, folded sheets sitting on top with a lumpy, stained pillow. Most of the room is taken up with several tables covered in craft projects at various stages of completion. Macrame, ceramics, mosaics set in stepping stones, jewelry and wind chimes.

Well if he’s staying, he’s going to need his own place, he thinks with a wry twist of his lips.

The next few days are about as bad as he expected them to be. His last Baja check arrives, less than he was hoping for because he had to bow out before the season was over. He discovers just how fucking uncomfortable sleeping on a rickety old cot can be.

And he has to be present at his father’s funeral. Which he has nothing appropriate to wear to and has to borrow clothes from Levi, including a tie he has no idea how to tie. In the end, his brother ties it for Peeta, in brusque movements while they stand outside the church and his brother berates him for everything from his shoes looking scuffed to the fact that he never learned how to tie a necktie.

Somehow, he manages not to laugh or snort or scoff when anyone talks about what a great man his father was. A devoted husband and father. Eventually, he just stops listening and bows his head, hoping his body language can pass for contemplative rather than annoyed as fuck.

But eventually, the old bastard is in the ground and Peeta is somehow the one his mother holds onto as they walk back to the cars. Her heels keep sinking into the grass, so they have to walk slowly. By the time they make it to the house, his brothers are already hosting the guests, accepting casseroles and other assorted food. More condolences and thoughts on how much Bobby Mellark will be missed.

Unable to handle it a second longer, Peeta makes sure his mother is established on the sofa with a drink and then retreats upstairs. He shrugs out of the borrowed sports coat and yanks off the borrowed tie. Kicks off the thrift store dress shoes and flops onto the cursed cot to stare at the wall and ignore the murmur of voices and weeping from downstairs.

Eventually, he falls asleep and wakes up with a crick in his neck. He stretches and changes into jeans, surprised to see that it’s still light outside before heading downstairs.

“Oh good. You can help me get all this mess in the fridge,” his mother says and Peeta falls in, covering the dishes with foil or plastic wrap according to her dictates and finding places for everything in the fridge, all while his mother sits at the counter talking to her good friend, Francesca Cartwright, and sipping on cheap wine.

When he’s done with that, he finds Donald Cartwright in the living room, kicked back in his dad’s old recliner and watching a baseball game. Without a word, Peeta slips past him, out to the garage where he yanks on his boots and grabs his tool bag, tossing it in the truck before driving off.

He has no set plan except away. He’s been aimlessly driving around town for almost an hour when it occurs to him what he really wants to do. It somehow feels fitting. The only right thing to do after burying his father.

Stopping at an auto parts store, Peeta grabs an assortment of parts. He doesn’t want to consider what it means that almost everything he grabs works for a Chevy. He blows the last bit of his cash on the stockpile and throws up a silent thanks that Donald agreed to hire him on full time, starting Monday next week. At least he’ll make this wad back.

As he drives to the track just outside of Seam, he kneads the steering wheel and tries to calm the nervous butterflies crashing around his gut. He has no way of knowing if she’ll even be there. If she’s even driving tonight or if Gale is. Or maybe he’s missed her rise entirely.

And if she is there, what is he going to do about it? She’s married. He’ll probably wind up just watching her and feeling like a schmuck who lost out. Although there is a part of Peeta that’s morbidly curious to see her with Gale. To see what exactly he lost out to.

By the time he makes it to the track, he’s convinced himself that this is a form of closure. A full circle stop on his journey of escaping his father’s fists and his drunken diatribes against Peeta’s worthlessness. Because Katniss was the first person he met when he ran away from home. And she was the first person who made him feel significant, valuable, wanted, even loved, if only for a night.

He parks in the grass field and leaves his tool bag in the truck. Pays for a ticket and finds a seat just as they’re announcing the lineup of drivers. He spots her car within seconds. Still looks the same except more beat up and worn a little more. In desperate need of a paint job. He waits as the names go down the list.

“And number twelve, Katniss Everdeen!”

Everdeen?

He claps, but he’s one of the few in the stands who does. By the time they finish, Peeta’s still mulling over the name. Then again, maybe Katniss chose not to change her name, he reminds himself. It’d be seen as odd around here, but it’s not impossible. He rests his forearms on his thighs and leans forward to watch the start. Within a few laps, he’s smiling to himself. Damn, she’s good.

Not quite as improved as he would’ve expected after five years, but it’s a thing of beauty, watching her maneuver her car around the track, into tight spaces most would flinch away from to pass the other drivers.

She does take a few hard hits, and when the race ends with her in fifth place, Peeta spends a few minutes debating. After all, she did say that she and Gale take turns driving the car. If it’s her night to drive, Gale would likely still be here as her pit crew.

Unless he’s not. He wasn’t here the night Peeta first saw Katniss drive.

Finally, he caves. Grabs his bag from the truck, tossing in a few spare parts he thinks she might need based on the way the car looked and sounded to be handling on the track. He heads towards the pasture that serves as a pit area and finds her pretty fast. She’s still driving her dad’s truck. That’s another sign in his favor, Peeta thinks as he approaches.

She’s got the hood of the car propped up and is staring into the engine bay with annoyance. She’s still so beautiful it makes his heart ache over what could have been. If he hadn’t been running from his father. If he hadn’t been desperate to get away. If he hadn’t already signed a contract in Levi’s name with the baja team. If if if what if.

She doesn’t look that different. More filled out in places. Her hips definitely look wider and curvier and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to having a few x-rated thoughts when he notices. Her hair is braided back again, a few wisps escaping in the humid air, a few sticking to her face and neck with perspiration. The tank top she’s wearing is old and worn enough that he can see the outline of her bra and the ring of sweat stains under her arms.

As he gets closer, he can hear her muttering.

“Obstinate no good hunk of junk. You just remember that Rodney got replaced by Rhonda the pitbull and she just had puppies. I can sell you to the junkyard and the whole litter will piss on you.”

In that moment, he knows. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be tonight. Even if she’s married still. He’ll be able to take this one perfect moment home with him tonight and live off the memory of her like this for another five years.

“Still bad mouthing your baby,” he says and her entire frame goes completely rigid. Does she remember him? He pokes to see if she does. “She’ll never purr for you if you threaten her.”

Katniss whirls around, a dark glare on her face. His smile wavers and he hesitates at the naked fury… and fear? That he sees in her eyes. But his father was probably right about how dumb Peeta is, he thinks, because he still opens his mouth and keeps talking.

“I half expected you and Gale to be on the NASCAR circuit by now as a kickass husband-wife duo.”

“Life didn’t turn out that way. Yet,” she says and he nods. He can understand dreams taking longer to achieve than you expected, after all. “How was baja?”

So she does remember. He works hard not to grin at her for it. “Great.”

“So why’re you here?”

“Missed home after all.” She stares at him, her piercingly gray eyes making it clear she doesn’t believe him. So he shrugs. “And my dad died, so I was expected at the funeral.”

“Well, sorry for your loss,” she says and turns back to the car.

“Don’t be.”

He can’t leave, although he probably should. Before her husband shows up and kicks his ass. If he were her husband, he’d kick his own ass for the things he’s already done to her. The things he’s imagined doing to her. Just for having the audacity to approach her five years after making love to her followed by five years of nothing. But he can’t leave, so he moves to stand next to her, keeping his eyes on her and greedily searching for any kind of sign that she might still want him around or be interested in him. For a moment, for forever.

She crosses her arms over her belly and seems to shrink in on herself. The motion is so unlike the girl he remembers that it catches him off guard. Maybe she’s afraid of what will happen if Gale shows up, it occurs to him. Although that thought enrages him, he tries for a light tone as he pries.

“So should I scram before your husband welcomes me with a shotgun?” She snorts and looks over at him with a scowl. Only it’s less fierce this time.

“I could use a mechanic. But I might not be able to pay you,” she says, and they’re the best words he’s heard in a long time. His smile feels inevitable. Uncontainable. But he still doesn’t know about Gale.

“Same deal? And maybe watch my back so I don’t get shot.”

“Gale won’t be here,” she tells him and then waves towards the race car. “Alimony, you remember Peeta. Peeta, this is Alimony.”

He whistles and sets his bag down, trying not to break into a celebratory dance. It’s probably awful of him, being glad she’s divorced, but on the same token, she’s still a kickass driver and a gorgeous woman. Any sane man would be crawling on hands and knees for a chance with her. “No offense, but you got screwed.”

“In more than one way,” she mutters. He doesn’t comment on that, because how her marriage ended is none of his business… yet. But he grins as he digs the spare fuel line he bought tonight out of his bag.

“I brought something with me. Just for you.”

“A brand new fuel line. Got a radiator hose in that bag of tricks, too?”

“Glad you asked,” he says and produces that too. She smiles at him and his heart starts doing cartwheels. Coming here tonight, he decides, was the best decision he’s ever made.

“You sure know how to spoil a girl.”

#9000 rpm nonsense #words are peetas thing not mine #ten years of fanfiction mania #triassictricerratops #look at that ask

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